OF  CALIF.  LIBRARY,  LOS  ANGELES 


> 


'•HIM      V-      \      I)|    ,  |  ,    |  |V|.. 


THE  ROCKANOCK  STAGE 


BY 

GEORGE   HUNTINGTON 


Author  ui'  "  .\  "akonia"  "  Kin^s  tnnt  Cupbearers"  etc. 


BOSTON'    AND   rincAC',0 

anTi  IJufaliefjtng: 


COPYRIGHT,  1896, 
in    (  <>M,i:>  (iATIONAL  SCNDAY-S.  1IOOL.  AND  I'UULISHINU  SOCIETY. 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  SAINT  VFI.CCIIS  AM>  TIIF.  DWARF     ....  5 

II.  <;I:IM  SEE-;  AN  A.M.II 17 

III.  SUNDAY  THEATRICALS 35 

IV.  Tin;  MERRY  BOND 49 

V.  Tin:  Km  KANOCK  STAGE 58 

VI.  THE  GRKY  HORSE  IN  A  BROWN  STUDY     .    .  75 

VII.  MR.  MACWHISKERS 94 

VIII.  SATURDAY  NIGHT 108 

IX.  A  HOMK  THRUST    .    .    .    .    , 120 

X.  PAGAN  OR  CHRISTIAN 131 

XI.  ON  EXHIBITION 142 

XII.  THE  Ro(  KiiY  MAIL 152 

XIII.  OUR  OWN  <  OI:RI>I'ONDI:MS 164 

XIV.  MM.ENDID  Sin  i- 178 

XV.  SAIIKI:  AND  SINCERITY 190 

XVI.  PORTIA  AND  BASSAXIO 201 

XVII.  THE  Xi:w  Ciiunt 216 

XVIII.  THE  OITWAY  TRACT 233 

XIX.  THE  <  IIAIIMS  OF  SUM  II-DF. 249 

XX.  A  SI-M  i:  OF  MERCY 2G8 

XXI.  A  SI-IEI:  OF  CHARITY 281 

XXII.  BETTER  A<  (^TAIN TA.M  i: 2% 

XXIII.  I'M  ON—    lol-    KVANliF.I.ISM 310 

XXIV.  A  REVIVAL  OF  CHIVALRY 322 

XXV.  A  Oi -FS'iiox  OF  HONOR 334 

XXVI.  Dr-Ti-AN  Piiii.osoi'iiY 347 

XXVII.  AN  ODD  I>I:TF.<  II\K 359 

XXVIII.  Ax  KA-I    \\I.\D 372 

XXIX.  MoNDAYISIINES.S as3 


2130174 


4  CO  v/v-:.vy\. 

(  II  A  PAGE 

,\\\.  A  SI-AUK  OK  TKOPICAL  HEAT 397 

\.\\l.  A  Tin. M.I. u  CLOUD 410 

XXXII.  Tin:  -n.\  i  i:  I'm  IIKR 425 

\X\lIl.  TII.K<  IN   im:  Ai  i  AII:^  01    .MKN 441 

\\.\1V.  r.M>KU    llli:   (iKAl'KN  INK 452 

\\.\V.  Mi:.  >I\« MVS...N 4«7 

\\.\VI.  Tin:  I'.I.ACK  (JiAM- 479 

\\'\VII.  Nit;nr  ON  mi:  JKUICIIO  ROAD 496 

\\\\lll.  A  Niu   (,(1-i'KL 512 

XX  XIX.  orr>n>r.  AND  J.\SII>K 529 

XL.  CoN(  i.i  SIO.N     .                                                       .  543 


THE  ROCKANOCK  STAGE. 


CHAPTER  I. 

SAINT    VELUCIUS    AND    THE    DWARF. 

I  WILL  tell  you  a  story  of  village  life  at  the  West 
—  a  story  of  the  fields  and  the  woods,  of  pleas- 
ant homes,  of  real  folks,  and  of  simple  country  ways. 
The  path  to  this  rural  paradise  leads,  of  course, 
through  Chicago,  where  we  must  be  briefly  detained, 
while  we  find  some  of  the  people  whom  it  concerns  us 
to  know. 

It  was  on  a  Friday  evening  in  May,  1871,  and,  ac- 
cording to  the  dial  on  the  courthouse  tower,  consid- 
erably past  six  o'clock.  The  occupants  of  the  Gibson 
Block  —  lawyers,  brokers,  and  the  like  — had  left  their 
oflices,  scattering  here  and  there  on  street  cars  and 
suburban  trains,  with  the  exception  of  one  belated 
tenant,  who  was  at  this  moment  descending  the  stairs. 
He  svas  a  lean,  angular  man,  perhaps  forty  years  old, 
with  a  leathery  face,  slightly  stooping  shoulders,  and 
a  dress  rather  inclining  to  rustim-ss.  lie  held  in  his 
hand  six  or  eight  letters,  freshly  prepared  for  the 

5 


0  THE  nOCKANOCK  STAGE. 

mail,  the  writing  of  which  might  be  assumed  to  have 
caused  his  tardy  departure.  On  the  landing  below 
squatted  tin-  little  old  hunchback  janitor,  with  his 
and  his  brush,  giving  the  stairs  an  ostensible 
scrubbing. 

"  Good  night,  naughty  old  (irira  !  "  said  the  tenant, 
stepping  over  the  sprawling  figure. 

"  Good  night,  holy  Saint  Velucius  !  "  answered  the 
dwarf,  without  looking  up  from  his  suds.  He  knew 
the  dusty  boots  and  the  half-yard  of  brown  trousers  of 
which  he  had  a  glimpse  under  his  eyebrows  ;  and  he 
very  well  knew  the  dry,  brassy  voice  of  V.  Lucius 
Pack,  Esq.,  tenant  of  No.  43,  third  floor,  irreverently 
nicknamed  Velucius. 

Perhaps  it  was  because  he  knew  him  so  well,  per- 
haps because  he  wished  some  further  knowledge,  that 
the  artful  dwarf,  though  he  had  seemed  to  take  no 
notice  of  the  passing  tenant,  immediately  turned  to 
watch  him,  squatting  on  all  fours  like  a  deformed  frog, 
and  indulging  in  some  special  contortions  of  the 
si|ue  fai-e  whieh  had  won  for  him  the  sobriquet  of 
(irimskull. 

The  truth  is  that  Grim  was  making  a  special  study 
of  Mr.  Pack,  about  some  of  whose  movements  there 
had  been  of  late  a  fascinating  mystery.  An  unex- 
plained visitor  had  been  often  at  No.  43  ;  a  younger 
man  than  Pack,  and  handsomer,  "too  handsome  for 


SAL\T    VE LUCIUS  AXD   THE  DWARF.  7 

any  use,"  Grim  had  said  to  himself,  and  with  such  a 
beard,  so  black  and  glossy,  and  of  such  phenomenal 
length  as  Grim  felt  to  be  an  actual  impertinence.  The 
two  men  had  frequent  meetings  in  43,  often  at  night. 
Moreover,  that  old  scoundrel  Krauutz,  the  Jew  broker, 
had  been  there  twice  within  a  week.  He  had  made 
previous  visits,  to  be  sure,  but  never  two  in  a  week, 
and  night  visits  at  that ! 

And  then  there  was  the  affair  of  Major  Gibson's 
envelope,  which,  as  the  reader  himself  must  admit, 
-omething  not  to  be  lightly  passed  over.  Major 
Gibson  was  the  owner  of  the  block,  a  rich  old 
bachelor.  Fisk  &  Willis,  Xo.  29,  were  his  attorneys. 
What  had  Pack  to  do  with  his  affairs?  If  the  major 
hud  ridden  over  in  a  hack,  as  he  always  did  when  he 
came  to  the  block,  and  had  gone  up  to  29,  and  the 
driver  had  found  a  big  law  envelope  in  the  carriage, 
and  had  brought  it  to  the  foot  of  the  stairs  and  called 
Grim  to  come  and  fetch  it,  and  Pack  had  chanced  to 
come  in  at  the  moment,  why  should  he  take  charge  of 
the  envelope  and  offer  to  deliver  it?  Was  he  a  man 
to  do  people's  errands  for  nothing?  And  why  did  he 
look  so  sharply  at  the  endorsement  on  the  back  of  the 
envelope?  And  why  did  he  find  it  necessary  to  visit 
his  own  oflice  before  delivering  the  envelope  to  its 
owiu-r?  And,  most  of  all,  why  did  he  examine  the 
document  which  it  enclosed,  and  make  notes  of  its 


8  THE   HOCKAXOCK  STACK. 

contents,  as  Grim  had  plainly  seen  him  do  through  the 
keyhole?  Why,  also,  had  the  envelope  incident  been 
followed  so  closely  by  the  advent  of  the  long-bearded 
stranger  and  the  night  sessions  in  No.  43?  How  did 
r  (iibson's  movements  happen  to  become  so  sud- 
denly interesting  to  Mr.  Pack?  and  what  reference 
had  it  all  to  the  beautiful  lady  who  had  recently  been 
once  or  twice  with  the  landlord  to  the  block?  And 
finally,  what  had  kept  Mr.  Pack  in  his  office  this  very 
night  an  hour  beyond  his  usual  time,  making  it  neces- 
for  the  janitor  to  devise  and  protract  disagreeable 
occupations  for  the  sake  of  watching  him?  Such  were 
the  (juestions  which  forced  themselves  upon  the  mind 
of  the  ingenious  Grim,  who  was  so  old-fashioned  as  to 
suppose  that  every  effect  must  have  a  cause. 

•  while  Mr.  Pack,  all  unconscious  of  surveil- 
lance, had  paused  on  the  outside  steps,  showing  un- 
mistakable signs  of  perplexity.  He  dropped  hi^head, 
knitted  his  brow,  pouted  his  lips,  stroked  his  chin, 
and  finally  sauntered  slowly  away  as  if  in  profound 
meditation. 

"  It 's  something  deep,  isn't  it,  Velucius?"  chuckled 

i  under  his  breath,  "  but  I  '11'  get  to  the  bottom  of 

it.  you  shall  see;  and  the  deeper  the  better,  I  say;" 

and  the  faithful  janitor  moved  his  suds  to  the  outer 

-,  and  continued  his  twofold  occupation. 

Reaching  the  mail  box  at  the  street  corner,  a  few 


SAIXT   VE LUCIUS  AXD    THE  DWARF.  0 

steps  away,  Mr.  Pack  deposited  his  letters,  one  by  one, 
till  he  came  to  the  last.  This  was  unsealed.  He 
turned  it  over  in  his  hand,  scanned  the  superscription, 
made  sure  that  the  proper  enclosure  was  within,  and 
was  in  the  act  of  bringing  the  gummed  margin  to  his 
lips  when  he  was  saluted  by  a  voice  from  the  inter- 
secting street. 

"  Rest  you  fair,  good  signior  !  " 

The  voice  was  as  unmistakable  as  Pack's  own, 
though  the  very  antithesis  of  it  —  low,  smooth,  purry, 
and  deliberate.  The  salutation  was  evidently  a  pleasant 
surprise  to  Mr.  Pack,  who  quickly  turned  to  meet  the 
speaker,  and  returned  the  greeting  according  to  its 
own  humor. 

•  •  My  Lord  Bassanio,  heaven  rest  you  fair  !  In  other 
words,  Mack,  how  are  you?"  and  the  two  men  shook 
hands. 

"  It 's  that  whisker  feller,"  muttered  Grim.  "  Mack, 
that's  Scotch  or  Irish.  And  Bassanio,  that's  Spanish 
or  7-tal-yun.  I  knew  he  was  some  sort  o'  forriner." 

"Why,  Mack,  this  is  a  miracle!"  continued  Mr. 
Pack.  "See  here,  I  was  just  mailing  this  letter  to 
you.  You've  saved  me  a  postage  stamp." 

"  It  is  the  first  dividend  on  your  investment,"  re- 
sponded the  other. 

"  And,  as  Master  Launcelot  Gobbo  would  say,  '  Ac- 
conliug  to  fates  and  destinies,  the  sisters  three  and 


Id  THE 


branches  of  learning,'  signifies  no  doubt  that  our 
enterprise  is  t<>  i<siie  in  stamps." 

"  You  arc  an  oracle  after  my  own  heart.  Now  give 
me  my  letter.  and  you  keep  the  stamp." 

"That's  a  fair  division." 

It  was  accordingly  made.  Pack  retained  the  en- 
velope and  passed  over  the  letter. 

••  It  's  better  than  talking  about  the   matter  here," 

,id  with  a  glance  at  the  industrious   (Jrim.      He 

removed  tin-  stamp  and  put   it  in   his  wallet.      "I'll 

ktvp  that  for  luck,"  said  he  ;  and,  tearing  the  envelope 

in  two,  dropped  it  into  the  gutter. 

Tin-  man  of  whiskers  glanced  over  the  brief  note, 
parting  his  mustache  with  the  tips  of  his  thumb  and 
finger  as  lie  read,  and  finally  giving  a  series  of  nods 
of  the  noncommittal  sort,  as  one  who  expresses  a  not 
'•nthiiMastic  assent,  but  does  not  find  just  the 
words  for  the  occasion. 

••  All  right?"  asked  Pack. 

"Unquestionably  right,  my  dear  fellow,  because 
proposed  by  a  man  incapable  of  evil." 

••  A  very  pivtty  l>it  of  irony;  but  I  will  give  you 
better  evidence  than  that  before  you  are  many  days 
older." 

"On  such  a  subject  information  will  always  be 
gratefully  mvivt-d." 

"  Could  you  bear  a  little,  now?  " 


Vh'LUCIUS  AXD    THE  DWARF.        11 


"  If  not  too  heartrending,  yes." 
•   "  I  think  you  would  find  it  rather  exhilarating." 

"  Then,  pray,  let  us  walk  on  while  you  are  giving 
it.  If  I  were  to  be  overcome  with  hilarity,  I  would 
rather  be  arrested  as  a  procession  than  as  a  mass 
meeting." 

So  the  two  men  strolled  away,  crossing  to  the  court- 
house side  of  the  street,  where  the  walk  was  almost 
deserted  at  that  hour  of  the  evening,  and,  compassing 
two  sides  of  the  square,  passed  on  in  the  direction  of 
the  'Fremont  House.  The  talking  was  chiefly  on  the 
part  of  Mr.  Pack.  His  auditor  listened  with  more 
noncommittal  nods,  occasionally  interrupting  with  a 
word  of  comment  or  interrogation,  and,  as  he  walked, 
absently  tore  the  letter  in  his  hand  and  dropped  it 
shred  by  shred  along  the  street. 

"  You  see,  Pack,"  he  was  saying  as  they  reached 
the  Lake  Street  entrance  of  the  hotel,  "well  —  I 
.suppose  I  am  what  they  call  old-fogyish  about  some 
tilings.  I  have  been  pretty  strictly  brought  up;  and 
e-pecially  in  an  affair  of  this  kind,  unless  my  con- 
srit  nee  was  satisfied  —  Hut  pshaw  !  what's  the  use  of 
preaching  to  you?  You  are  just  as  conscientious  as  I 
am,  I  know  that." 

"Thank  you,  Mack;  I  don't  think  my  piety  is  a 
bore  to  anybody  ;  but  I  mean  to  be  on  the  square,  and 
I  like  a  square  man  for  a  client,  that  's  a  fact.  Can't 


12  THE  JiOCKAXOCK  STAGE.' 

always  get  'etn,  you  know.  Have  to  take  'era  as  they 
come.  But  it  is  a  satisfaction  to  find  a  man  that's- 
all  conscience,  like  you.  You  have  rooms  here,  I 

•  L'.toms?  Yes,  I  have  the  dining  room  and  the 
billiard  room  and  the  corridors  and  the  parlors  and 
tin-  elevator,  and  —  oh.  y.->  :  a  fourth-floor  bachelor's 
cage.  Let  me  show  it  to  you." 

Not  to-night,  thank  you.  There  is  a  little  domestic 
bliss  awaiting  me  on  the  North  Side.  Before  many 
days  we  shall,  I  hope,  put  you  in  the  way  to  obtain  as 
much  and  considerable  more." 

"  I  am  not  so  very  .-anguine  about  that,  old  boy." 

"So  much  the  better  then." 

••  I',  '-.uise  I  shall  get  the  blessing  of  the  man  who 
expects  nothing?" 

••  N<>.  of  the  man  who  is  happily  disappointed." 

So  they  went  their  several  ways,  the  one  to  the  hotel 
el.  vator  and  the  other  to  a  North  Side  car. 

Meantime  Grim  had  been  busy  in  his  own  unique 
bnt  not  altogether  with  janitor  work.  Of  tho 
conversation  at  the  street  corner  he  had  caught  only 
an  occasional  word  ;  but  by  this,  and  still  more  by  his 
failure  to  understand  the  rest,  his  suspicions  were 
increased  and  his  curiosity  was  intensified.  He  was 
now  perfectly  certain  that  it  was  something  deep,  and 
that  he  should  get  to  the  bottom  of  it.  No  sooner 


SAINT   VELUCIUS  AXD    THE  DWARF.        13 

• 

had  Pack  and  his  client  turned  the  next  corner,  there- 
fore, than  Grim  was  on  their  track.  He  soon  had  the 
envelope  out  of  the  gutter  and,  putting  the  two  pieces 
together,  read  the  superscription  :  — 

ALLAN  MAC  ALLAN,  Esq., 

Tremont  House, 
City. 

"  So  that 's  your  name,  Mr.  Blackbeard  !  Or  is  it 
only  your  ailyus?  Which.?  " 

Without  waiting  to  solve  this  question,  he  pocketed 
the  envelope  and  hurried  on  to  secure  the  fragments 
of  the  letter  itself.  The  route  which  his  victims  had 
followed  was  especially  favorable  to  his  purpose. 
The  tearing  had  tukeu  place  on  the  broad  and  nearly 
deserted  walk  around  the  courthouse  square  ;  and  it 
was  comparatively  easy  not  only  to  find  most  of  the 
pieces,  but  even  to  see  where  the  last  of  them  had 
fallen. 

One  by  one  the  little  goblin  gathered  them,  hopping 
here  and  there  in  his  froggish  fashion,  dodging  an 
occasional  pedestrian,  paying  no  heed  to  the  stare  of 
the  policeman  or  to  the  chaff  of  the  street  Arabs. 

Having  reached  the  end  of  the  trail  he  turned  back, 
going  over  his  ground  more  carefully  still,  and  search- 
ing crevices  and  corners  for  minute  pieces  which  had 
escaped  him  before.  Arrived  with  his  booty  at  the 
block,  he  secured  a  piece  of  wrapping  paper  and  a 


1  1  7 7//-:    A'orAM.Yor/r    STA<iK. 

paste  pot  from   one  of  tlie   rooms   to  which   he  had 
-s,  and    retired    to   his   own   special   den   in   the 
ient. 

nt  Velucius,"  said  he,  "and  Mr.  Bas- 
sanio  MacYVhat  's-yer-name !  You  can  tear  and  I  fan 
patch.  Yon  can  write  and  I  can  rend.  Whew!  but 
here  's  a  treat,"  said  lie,  exulting  in  the  very  difliculty 
of  the  thing.  "  l!  'a  a  pity  you  hadn't  a  coffee  mill, 
Mr.  .Mack,  to  grind  it  a  little  finer  for  yon." 

It  was  indeed  the  most  complicated  section  puzzle 
that  (liini  had  ever  undertaken,  and  therefore  the 
most  fascinating.  The  courthouse  clock  struck  many 
an  hour  as  the  little  magician  wrought  at  his  task;  but 
lie  heard  nothing  except  his  own  voice,  croaking  an 
-iomd  low  note  of  satisfaction,  or  mumbling"  bits 
of  talk,  addressed  now  to  the  chaos  before  him,  now 
to  its  authors,  and  now  to  himself. 

"  That 's  a  corner  piece.  .  .  .  You  lie  there.  .  .  . 
Well  torn.  Mack.  .  .  .  No  go.  .  .  .  Now  we  have 
you,  Yelucius.  .  .  .  Must  be  a  piece  gone  there.  .  .  . 
iiere  it  is.  .  .  .  Now  we  have  a  whole  line.  .  .  . 
Good  for  you,  old  Grim."  And  so  on,  hour  after 
hour. 

Rut  each  hour  brought  its  triumph  to  the  dwarf. 
Out  of  the  chaos  In-  extorted  form  and  sense.  Inch 
by  inch,  and  line  by  line,  the  dismembered  letter 
yielded  to  his  ^kill.  and  to  the  potent  spell  of  the 


SAINT  VE LUCIUS  AND    THE  DWARF.        15 

paste  pot,  till  the  last  atom  was  made  fast,  and  the 
grimy,  zigzag  patchwork  lay  under  the  magician's 
hand,  damp,  sticky,  and  curling. 

"  Talk  about  merrycles  !  "  exclaimed  Grim,  survey- 
ing it  with  pride. 

But  alas  for  the  bootless  pains  of  eavesdroppers 
and  spies  !  The  letter  was  merely  a  jumble  of  Shake- 
spearean names  and  phrases,  covering  a  communica- 
tion so  commonplace  that  it  might  apparently  have 
been  safely  posted  on  the  bulletin  board  at  the  street 
door. 

VENICE,  May,  1871. 

Sweet  Bassanio,  —  All  our  wishes  prosper.  The  Jew  is 
kiud,  and  there  shall  be  no  lack  of  ducats  or  good  will  to 
speed  thy  suit  and  fortune.  We  meet  in  my  palace,  on  the 
I'la/a  LaSalle,  at  two  of  the  clock  on  Sunday,  to  seal  the 
merry  bond.  I  pray  thee,  let  us  not  lack  thine  attendance ; 
and  then  thou  may'st  away  with  the  first  wind  that  blows 
toward  Belmont.  Fare  thee  well.  Till  thou  find  a  better 
friend,  bestow  a  little  of  thy  heart  upon  ANTONIO. 

Only  that,  and  nothing  more  !  A  business  appoint- 
ment, in  nonsensical  phrase !  A  man  must  have  a 
genius  for  suspicion  and  a  mania  for  mystery  to  find 
anything  interesting  in  that.  But  Grim  had  precisely 
that  mania  and  that  genius,  and  to  him  every  word 
was  significant. 

"  So  you  'vc  got  an  ailyus,  too,  Velucius  !  "  said  he. 


16  TllK  HOCKAXOCK 


"  Antonio,"  hey  ?  Antonio  and  Bassanio  !  Them's 
theater  names,  them  be.  Whudduz  honest  men  want 
o'  theater  names  V  ailyuses?  And  whattall  is  this 
nonsense  about  playzas  V  palaces  'n'  doocats,  'n' 
merry  bonds?  Them's  theater  words,  too.  And  it's 
a-goin'  to  be  a  Sunday  theater,  is  it?  Whudduz  honest 
men  hafter  meet  on  Sunday  for?  I  should  n't  wonder 
but  what  it  might  be  a  pretty  good  show.  I  rather 
think  I'll  go,  Velucius,  if  you  and  Bassanio  hain't  no 
objections.  You  need  n't  mind  about  sendiu'  on  me  no 
complimentary  tickets,  though.  A  private  box,  at  my 
own  charges,  is  good  enough  for  me."  Then,  lifting 
a  board  in  the  floor,  he  hid  the  letter  in  a  secret  recess. 
"  Talk  about  merrycles  !  "  said  lie. 

The  courthouse  clock  was  striking  one  as  Grim 
crept  into  his  wretched  bed.  The  night,  as  usual. 
brought  him  more  pain  than  rest.  Hour  after  hour  he 
lay  moaning,  turning  this  way  and  that  to  ease  his 
aching  back,  now  wearied  to  sleep  by  suffering,  now 
brought  back  to  consciousness  by  some  fresh  paroxysm 
of  pain.  But,  awake  or  asleep,  the  gleam  of  triumph 
flashed  again  and  again  across  his  face  as  he  muttered  : 

"  Talk  about  merrycles  !  " 


»         CHAPTER  II. 

GRIM    SEES    AX   ANGEL. 

E  toils  and  sufferings  of  the  night  did  not  keep 
-*-  Grim  from  his  proper  duties  in  the  morning. 
He  even  rose  earlier  than  usual ;  though  he  went  about 
with  a  dragging  gait  and  a  haggard  look.  Sometimes 
the  recollection  of  his  "  merry cle  "  brought  a  gleam  of 
satisfaction  into  his  old  face,  puckering  it  into  a  smile 
irresistibly  comical,  to  be  quickly  succeeded  by  a  sad- 
ness as  irresistibly  pathetic. 

The  tenants  came  in  one  by  one  ;  and  Grim  received 
many  a  greeting,  in  rude  jest  or  in  gentle  friendliness, 
according  to  their  moods  or  his  own. 

"  What  a  concentrated  old  tombstone  that  fellow 
is  !  "  said  a  law  student  as  he  entered  No.  21),  where 
Mr.  Wilk'V  was  already  busy  at  his  desk. 

44  What  fellow?" 

"That  hunchback.  It  gives  me  a  chapter  of 
Lamentations  to  look  at  him." 

"  What,  Grim?  When  I  met  him,  five  minutes  ago, 
he  was  grinning  like  a  menagerie  of  monkeys." 

''That's  it,  you  know  —  patent  reversible  mask  — 
make  you  laugh  —  make  you  cry  — grand  combination 
show.  See?" 

17 


18  THE  ROCKANOCK  STAGE. 

The  hours  of  business  were  (Irim's  hours  of  enjoy- 
ment. He  liked  to  feel  the  pulse  of  eager  life  throb- 
bing out  to  room  after  room,  and  to  story  above  story 
of  the  great  t.lock,  and  to  think  how  myriads  of  such 
pulses  were  thrilling  the  city  through  and  through. 
The  hum  within  and  the  roar  without  were  music  to 
him,  as  lie  went  here  and  there  with  his  inevitable 
broom,  in  pursuit  of  such  janitorial  prey  as  apple 
cores,  peanut  shells,  cigar  stumps,  and  miscellaneous 
litter. 

He  was  making  his  third  or  fourth  inspection  of  the 
sidewalk,  the  reversible  mask  having  its  melancholy 
side  out,  when  a  carriage  drove  up  and  a  familiar 
voice  called  out :  — 

"  Good  morning  to  you,  Grim  '.  " 
"  flood  morning  to  you,  major  !  "  said  Grim,  quickly 
turning  to  salute  his  employer,  and  plucking  his  old 
hat  from  his  head.  The  mask  had  its  best  side  out 
now.  The  major  was  a  divinity  to  the  little  dwarf. 
In  the  first  place  he  was  a  handsome  old  gentleman, 
with  his  fn-sh  English  face,  his  gray  side  whiskers, 
and  ins  portly  form ;  and  Grim  had  a  hobgoblin's 
admiration  for  everything  handsome.  But  better  still, 
Major  Gibson  liked  Grim,  trusted  him  implicitly,  con- 
sulted him,  followed  his  advice  sometimes,  and  gen- 
erally ministered  to  his  self-respect. 

At    this   moment,    however,    the   strongest    feeling 


AN  ANGEL.  19 


awakened  in  the  janitor's  mind  was  that  of  surprise. 
For  the  landlord,  instead  of  being  driven  to  the  block 
as  usual,  in  some  old  rusty  hack  that  he  had  caught  at 
a  street  corner,  was  himself  driving  a  pair  of  fine  bays 
in  a  shiny  top  buggy.  And  by  his  side  sat  the  beauti- 
ful lady!  (irim  had  caught  distant  glimpses  of  her 
two  or  three  times  of  late  ;  but  now  he  saw  her  face 
to  face,  and  thought  her  the  most  beautiful  creature 
he  had  ever  seen.  He  could  have  gone  down  on  his 
knees  and  worshiped  her.  He  did  give  her  a  look 
of  such  spontaneous  and  fervent  adoration  that  she 
blushed  and  smiled  to  his  further  discomfiture.  The 
major  smiled,  too,  and  said  :  — 

"  Grim,  this  is  my  ward,  Miss  Darling.  I  want  her 
to  know  you." 

"  It  will  be  a  pleasure,  I  am  sure,"  said  she  as 
graciously  as  if  a  prince  were  being  presented  to  her. 
The  voice  was  as  sweet  as  the  face.  Poor  Grim  felt 
himself  blushing  now,  and  could  have  sunk  through 
the  pavement  from  embarrassment. 

••  If  you  don't  mind,  Lucy,"  said  the  major,  "  I  will 
leave  you  and  the  horses  in  Grim's  care  while  I  run  up- 
stairs a  minute." 

"  As  long  as  you  please,"  said  Lucy  with  another 
smile,  in  whose  brightness  lurked  not  one  gleam  of 
amusement  at  the  absurdity  of  her  guardian's  running 
up  or  down  anywhere. 


• 


20  TIIK    A' or  AM  A"  OCA'  STAGE. 

"Slu-'s  :ui  angel,  lliat  's  \vliut  she  is !  "  said  Grim 
to  himself  MS  he  moved  toward  the  horses'  heads. 

In  point  of  fact,  as  the  reader  will  certainly  be 
relieved  to  know,  Miss  Lucy  Darling  was  by  no  means 
ideally  b-autiful.  Ideal  beauties  are  useful  as 
artist's  models,  but  are  worthless  as  heroines  and 
intolerable  as  acquaintances.  Ideal  beauty  can  be 
analy/ed  and  itemi/ed,  like  a  flower  or  butterfly.  Its 
parts  are  known  and  describable.  Its  lips,  its  noses, 
ils  eyelashes,  its  tints  and  textures,  the  elements  of 
its  curves  —  all  have  their  ready-made  labels  which 
any  connoisseur  can  apply.  Once  master  its  meager 
vocabulary  and  you  can  be  as  precise  and  as  intelli- 
gible in  this  as  in  any  other  of  the  exact  sciences. 

Miss  Lucy  Darling  was  not  ideally  beautiful;  but 
she  was  really  beautiful,  which  is  infinitely  sweeter  and 
more  enchanting.  A  fresh,  unspoiled  girl  of  twenty, 
in  perfect  health,  just  escaped  from  her  books,  with 
her  graduating  essay  and  the  diploma  of  a  celebrated 
New  England  seminary  in  her  trunk  ;  her  mind  still 
under  the  fine  stimulus  of  the  intellectual  atmosphere 
which  she  had  so  long  been  breathing;  full  of  pensive 
is  at  the  breaking  up  of  school  associations,  yet 
exulting  in  the  novel  sense  of  freedom;  at  peace  with 
herself  and  her  destiny  ;  thinking  well  of  the  world 
she  lived  in  ;  troubled  by  no  cares  and  dreading  no 
evil  ;  frank,  unsuspicious,  sympathetic;  without  affec- 


GRIM  SEES  AN  ANGEL.  21 

* 

tations  or  morbid  sentiments  or  coquettish  ambitions, 
and  caring  not  a  fig  for  any  lover  in  creation,  she  was 
the  picture  of  wholesome  young  womanhood. 

It  was  in  these  manifold  qualities  of  mind  and 
character,  rather  than  in  any  transcendent  charms  of 
person,  that  lay  the  secret  of  that  beauty  which  Grim 
thought  angelic.  There  were,  to  be  sure,  attractions 
about  her  of  the  more  describable  sort,  of  which 
admirers  less  blindly  idolatrous  than  Grim  were  wont 
to  take  note.  The  soft  brown  hair,  the  hazel  eyes,  the 
rounded  cheek,  the  ruddy  lips,  the  saucy  chin  —  all 
these  were  items  of  recognized  value.  Even  the 
pretty  spring  costume  had  its  part  in  the  general  effect. 
Yet  all  this  was  not  a  whit  angelic.  There  was  some- 
thing else,  something  not  external,  so  the  artists  said, 
that  gave  Lucy  Darling  her  real  fascination.  Her 
features,  they  said,  did  not  conform  to  the  strict  canons 
of  proportion,  but  for  harmony  and  sweetness  were 
incomparable.  There  was  a  shining  through  the  face 
of  a  light  from  within  — a  light  shaded,  according  to 
the  feeling  which  kindled  it,  all  the  way  from  cloudless 
radiance  down  to  the  softest  twilight  pensiveness. 
In  truth,  her  face  was  as  changeful  in  its  beauty  as 
Grim's  was  in  its  grotesqueness. 

Singularly  enough,  it  was  the  discovery,  each  in  the 
other,  of  this  common  trait  that  awakened  in  the 
goblin  and  in  the  angel  a  mutual  interest ;  on  her  side 


pitv:  on  his,  adoration.  As  he  stood  at  the  horses' 
heads,  with  downcast  eyes,  overwhelmed  with  the 
sense  of  his  own  ugliness,  the  mask  slowly  turned  its 
melancholy  side  outward.  She  saw  the  strange  trans- 
formation and  was  deeply  moved  by  it.  What  could 
it  be,  she  wondered,  that  had  drawn  such  lines  upon 
this  hideous  face?  The  forehead  was  a  mass  of 
wrinkles;  the  little  gray  eyes  and  the  great  uncouth 
mouth  expressed  unutterable  misery.  Unconsciously 
Liu--  is  transformed,  too.  The  twilight  fell 

upon  it  in  a  moment,  and  not  without  its  dews  as  well 
a  shadows.  When  Grim  next  looked  up,  he  saw 
his  angel's  eyes  filled  with  tears,  and  knew  that  they 
were  bestowed  upon  him.  Then  his  own  filled  also; 
but  at  the  same  instant  the  mask  changed  again,  and 
in  place  of  the  melancholy  that  had  so  affected  Lucy, 
came  an  expression  of  ineffable  peace.  He  gave  her 
one  grateful  look  and  turned  quickly  toward  the 
lioi-es,  making  an  awkward  feint  of  doing  something 
to  the  harness.  Poor  old  Grim  !  How  should  he  know 
what  to  do  when  a  beautiful  girl  smiled  and  cried  over 
him,  and  his  own  eyes  were  wet  with  the  first  tears 
that  he  could  remember  to  have  shed  since  he  looked 
into  his  mother's  coffin?  The  major  returned  with  an 
air  of  unusual  briskness,  slipped  a  half-dollar  down 
the  back  of  Grim's  neck,  stopping  his  stammering 
protest  with  some  directions  about  a  newly  rented 
ollice,  and  climbed  heavily  into  the  "buggy. 


GEIM  SEES  AN  ANGEL.  23 

"  Did  the  old  scamp  take  good  care  of  you?"  said 
he  to  Lucy  with  an  air  which  Grim  seemed  to  enjoy 
intensely;  "because  if  he  didn't,  I'll  have  him 
beheaded,  you  know,  right  on  the  spot !  " 

44  Pray  don't !  "  cried  Lucy  in  pretended  alarm. 
44  He  has  done  famously,  I  assure  you,  and  we  are  the 
best  of  friends  already." 

11  What,  what !  The  best?  Then  I  will  behead  him 
anyway,"  laughed  the  landlord  as  he  gathered  up  the 
reins  and  cut  at  Grim's  neck  with  the  whip,  as  if  he 
were  wielding  a  long  sword. 

Grim  ducked  his  head  and  hopped  out  of  reach,  the' 
jnlliest  side  of  the  mask  being  outward. 

44  Have  a  care,"  said  his  master,  touching  the  horses 
lightly.  '4  You  will  not  escape  so  easily  next  time." 

44  Good-by,"  called  Lucy,  turning  her  brightest  smile 
upon  the  dwarf  as  they  whirled  away. 

Grim  watched  them  till  the  last  flutter  of  pink  rib- 
bons disappeared  around  the  corner,  and  then  rubbed 
his  eyes  like  a  man  awaking  from  a  pleasant  dream. 

4'  Talk  about  angels !  "  said  he  ;  44  she  's  a  goddess, 
that's  what  she  is  ;  "  adding  after  a  pause,  "'  Kind  o' 
seems  to  me  zif  the  old  major  thought  so  too." 

The  term  44  old  major"  was  not  to  Grim  one  of 
disrespect.  He  never  used  it  except  in  his  private 
soliloquies,  and  then  only  by  way  of  affectionate  famil-' 
iarity.  Nor  did  he  mean  to  express  any  objection 


•J  1  THE  ROCKANOCK  STAGE. 

to  the  landlord's  sharing  with  him  his  opinion  of  Miss 
Ihuliim.  Yet  he  felt  it  to  be  somehow  objectionable, 
he  could  not  have  told  why.  He  would  have  been 
angry  with  the  major,  much  as  he  liked  him,  if  the 
iiuin  had  shown  any  lack  of  appreciation  of  Miss 
LUCY.  But  he  did  not  want  him  to  think  too  highly 
of  her,  or  to  be  too  highly  thought  of  by  her.  Being  a 
goddess  to  a  poor  little  misshapen  idolater  like  himself 
was  a  very  different  thing,  Grim  thought,  from  being 
i<U'>s  to  a  handsome  old  millionaire,  and  implied 
a  very  different  state  of  feeling. 

Yet,  in  truth,  the  landlord's  feeling  was  as  unex- 
ceptionable as  the  janitor's.  To  him  his  ward  was 
neither  a  goddess  nor  an  angel,  but  a  very  charming 
young  woman,  of  whose  attractions  he  somehow  felt 
himself  to  be  the  creator.  What  she  was  she  owed 
largely,  far  more  largely  than  she  now  suspected,  to 
his  oversight.  His  pride  in  her  was  pride  in  his  own 
achievement.  All  that  was  noble  and  generous  in  him 
had  been  drawn  out  toward  this  girl.  For  seven  years 
she  had  been  to  him  as  his  own  daughter.  Had  she 
lufii  really  so,  he  could  not  have  bestowed  more 
thought  upon  her  welfare  ;  he  could  not  have  watched 
her  with  more  solicitude ;  he  could  not  have  felt 
greater  exultation  at  what  she  had  become.  Every 
day  he  said  in  his  fond,  old  heart,  "  Is  not  this  the 
fair  womanhood  which  I  have  builded?" 


GRIM  SEES  AX  ANGEL.  25 

Moses  Darling  Lad  been  Mr.  Gibson's  dearest 
friend.  As  young  men  in  pursuit  of  fortune,  they 
had  met  in  Chicago,  away  back  in  the  thirties,  and 
had  seen  together  the  ups  and  downs  of  the  marvelous 
city.  They  were  thrifty,  steady-going  young  fellows, 
and  though  possessing  no  extraordinary  business 
ability,  were  iu  course  of  time  reckoned  among  the 
prosperous  men  of  the  town.  They  never  were  part- 
ners, and  superstitiously  avoided  the  slightest  business 
relation  with  each  other,  lest  it  should  mar  their  friend- 
ship; though  either  of  them  would  cheerfully  have 
given  the  other  his  last  dollar  in  case  of  need. 

On  a  certain  day  Darling  returned  from  an  Eastern 
visit,  bringing  a  bride  with  him,  —  a  lovely  girl  with 
hair  and  eyes  like  Lucy's,  and  as  devoutly  believed, 
by  one  admirer  at  least,  to  be  an  angeU 

On  another  day  a  black-bordered  letter  came  to 
Gibson,  telling  him  with  words  all  blurred  with  tears 
that  his  angel  was  beyond  the  stars. 

The  Darlings  took  the  stricken  man  to  their  little 
cottage  by  the  lake,  and  he  became  from  that  day  an 
inseparable  part  of  their  domestic  life.  The  children 
almost  grew  up  in  his  arms,  and  the  graves  where 
three  of  them  were  laid  were  wet  with  his  tears  as 
were  no  other  graves,  save  one. 

In  the  crash  of  1857  Darling  was  driven  to  the 
brink  of  ruin.  True  to  the  old  superstition,  he  would 


26  THE  ROCKANOCK  STAKE. 

not  borrow  of  Gibson  ;  but  it  was  Gibson  who  secretly 
furnished  the  security  which  kept  his  credit  good  and 
carried  him  through  the  crisis. 

When  the  war  broke  out,  both  men,  though  past 
fifty,  were  eager  to  enter  the  army.  They  had  been 
officers  in  the  old  City  Artillery,  and  had  the  spirit 
and  the  training  for  the  service.  It  was  agreed  be- 
tween them,  however,  that  only  one  of  them  could  be 
spared  from  home,  and  Gibson  being  a  family  man 
only  by  brevet,  claimed  the  right  to  go.  The  point 
was  sharply  contested  between  them,  till  Gibson  one 
day  put  a  sudden  stop  to  the  dispute  by  showing  his 
uniform  and  commission.  He  went  out  a  captain 
and  came  back  a  major. 

There  were  four  at  the  cottage  to  grieve  at  the 
CM  plain's  departure.  There  were  only  two  to  rejoice 
at  the  major's  return.  An  enemy  against  whom  there 
are  no  defenders  had  entered  the  pretty  home  by  the 
lakeside.  The  major  had  hastened  for  his  furlough  on 
the  receipt  of  the  first  news  of  the  deadly  attack,  and 
had  sp.-d  toward  Chicago  as  fast  as  horses  and  rail- 

-  could  carry  him.  But  the  fever  made  yet  more 
awful  haste,  and  he  arrived  only  to  find  two  heart- 
broken girls,  fatherless  and  motherless,  now  left  to 
his  sole  care.  So  the  f nloiigh  was  followed  l,v  a 

-nation,  and  he  became  in  some  solemn  sense  a 
father  by  brevet. 


GRIM  SEES  AN  ANGEL.  27 

The  girls  were  not  as  they  were  in  the  old,  happy 
days  before  he  went  away.  Helen,  the  older  of  the 
two,  whom  he  had  left  at  sweet  sixteen,  was  already 
a  woman.  Her  betrothal  to  young  Dr.  Ashley  had 
been  announced  to  the  major,  as  a  family  secret,  a 
few  weeks  before.  But  the  beautiful  miracle  of 
womanhood  that  had  been  wrought  in  her,  and  the 
womanly  grace  and  wisdom  with  which  it  had  clothed 
her,  filled  him  with  wonder. 

Lucy,  the  younger  sister,  seemed  much  plainer  at 
twelve  than  she  had  been  at  eight.  "  She  is  going  to 
be  a  homely  woman,"  he  said  to  himself,  "and  I  rather 
incline  to  l>e  glad  of  it,  if  I  have  got  to  play  father  to 
the  poor  thing.  There  '11  be  less  danger  for  her  and 
less  trouble  for  me." 

The  estate,  as  he  had  expected,  was  in  a  bad  way. 
Indeed,  it  was  at  the  next  remove  from  bankruptcy. 
For  this  the  major  cared  but  little,  as  he  had  enough 
for  them  all.  He  even  looked  upon  it  as  a  mercy,  as 
he  had  on  Lucy's  plainness.  It  simplified  the  situa- 
tion. Lucy  was  a  sweet,  affectionate  child,  with  a 
high  regard  for  the  major.  Free  from  the  perils  of 
beauty  and  fortune,  and  constrained  by  her  sister's 
example  and  her  mother's  memory,  she  might,  he 
thought,  make  a  woman  worthy  of  them  all. 

He  took  no  counsel  of  the  fathers  and  mothers  of 
his  acquaintance,  having  a  very  poor  opinion  of  their 


28  THE  ROCKANOCK 

success  as  trainers  of  the  young.  But  be  freely  con- 
sulted the  girls  themselves,  and  still  more  freely  his 
own  common  sense.  Certain  things  were  clear  to  him. 
The  standard  for  means  and  expenditures  must  be  that 
to  which  the  girls  were  accustomed,  which,  as  he  knew, 
was  that  of  easy  respectability,  removed  alike  from 
luxury  and  from  poverty.  They  must  have  the  lea>t 
occasion  possible  to  think  about  money,  or  to  be  sensi- 
ble of  either  its  scarcity  or  its  abundance.  This  in- 
volved, of  course,  the  devotion  of  his  own  property  to 
their  support ;  but  of  that  they  must  know  nothing, 
lie  would  not  begin  his  difficult  task  by  destroying  the 
self-respect  of  his  wards.  They  should  never  know 
that  they  were  dependent  upon  him  except  for  affection 
and  counsel. 

Having  learned,  partly  from  Helen,  and  partly  from 
her  father's  accounts,  what  amount  was  necessary  to 
carry  out  his  plan,  he  contrived  to  have  the  estate  yield 
precisely  that  amount.  Some  inconvertible  property  he- 
bought  for  cash.  Some  worthless  stocks  he  took  at  a 
handsome  figure.  For  the  rest  he  resorted  to  the  simple 
plan  of  giving  his  own  note,  payable  to  Darling  — 
antedating  them  a  year  or  more,  as  the  case  required, 
making  himself  appear  as  a  debtor  to  the  estate.  The 
girls,  who  had  been  prepared  by  their  father  for  a  great 
diminution  of  income,  found  themselves  comfortably 
provided  for  ;  and  the  major  was  warmly  congratulated 


SEES  AX  AXGEL.  29 


by  his  business  acquaintances  upon  his  success  in  sav- 
ing the  wreck  of  Darling's  fortune.  Helen  married 
her  doctor,  and  they  settled  in  a  pleasant  country  town, 
of  which  we  shall  hear  a  good  deal  in  the  course  of  our 
story.  Lucy  was  sent  to  an  Eastern  school,  of  which 
her  mother  had  been  a  graduate.  The  major  visited 
her  once  or  twice  a  year,  and  at  each  visit  found  fresh 
reason  for  gratification.  She  was  not  a  brilliant 
scholar,  for  which  he  was  thankful  ;  but  she  was  some- 
how gaining  a  development  of  mind  and  character 
with  which  he  was  delighted.  At  the  same  time  the 
plainness  which  had  once  been  such  a  relief  to  his 
mind  became  less  conspicuous  year  by  year,  and  at 
last  conspicuously  wanting.  The  miracle  of  woman- 
hood was  even  more  marvelous  in  her  than  in  Helen. 
If  there  was  any  peril  in  beauty,  she  was  evidently 
destined  to  meet  it. 

In  the  mean  time  the  major's  looks  also  had  im- 
proved somewhat,  and  his  fortune  very  much  indeed. 
He  was  called  a  millionaire;  though  if  the  term  be 
strictly  used,  it  would  need  discounting  at  least  one 
half.  At  any  rate  he  had  money  enough  and  to  spare, 
and  had  well  determined,  as  men  of  sixty  should,  what 
was  to  become  of  it  when  he  was  gone. 

The  Tremont  House  had  long  been  his  home,  where, 
being  a  prepossessing  bachelor,  and  a  reputed  million- 
aire, he  fared  sumptuously  every  day,  and  was  courted 


30  THE  1WCK.\\<><  l< 

as  an  amiable  and  virtuous  potentate  by  the  regular 
boarders.  His  matrimonial  chances  were  still  good. 
A  charming  widow  was  openly  charged  with  having 
set  her  cap  for  him,  and  not  less  than  five  mammas  of 
marriageable  daughters  were  thought  to  have  designs 
upon  him. 

But  the  major  was  proof  against  all  their  arts.  His 
foolip.li  old  heart  had  one  idol  ouly,  —  his  ward,  his 
pride,  his  miracle  of  womanhood, — Lucy  Darling. 
When  she  came  back  to  him,  so  beautiful,  so* refined, 
so  accomplished  yet  so  simple-hearted,  and  with  all  her 
old  love  for  him  unabated,  his  cup  was  full.  He  in- 
stalled her  in  the  best  suite  of  rooms  that  the  house 
afforded.  lie  abjured  his  faith  in  the  virtues  of  home- 
liness. He  exulted  in  every  grace  and  charm,  and 
praised  her  and  petted  her  in  a  way  that  she  found 
delightfully  embarrassing. 

Her  relation  to  him  was  still  as  purely  filial  as  it  had 
been  in  her  childhood.  She  could  not  remember  when 
it  had  not  been  so.  She  could  not  imagine  it  ex- 
changed for  any  other  relation  whatever;  neither 
could  he.  Yet  a  great  change  had  come  over  it, 
owing  to  the  change  in  herself.  She  was  no  longer  a 
child  ;  she  was  a  woman.  The  merry  romp,  the  ready 
kiss,  the  clinging  caress  of  the  girl  were  no  more. 
But  in  their  place  were  naive  womanly  ways,  as  un- 
studied and  as  unconscious  as  they,  and  expressing 


r,lUM  SEES  AX  ANGEL.  31 

through  all  their  pretty  decorum  a  greater  intensity  of 
gratitude  ami  affection. 

Lucy's  stay  in  Chicago  was  for  a  brief  visit  only. 
Her  home  for  the  present  was  to  be  with  Helen  at 
Kockby,  ami  the  sisters  were  eager  to  be  together 
again  after  the  seven  years'  separation.  The  major 
had  bargained  with  Helen  for  leave  to  keep  Lucy 
one  week.  "  I  can  amuse  her  that  long,"  he  had  said 
in  his  letter;  "and  while  I  am  showing  her  the  new 
lions  of  her  native  city,  she  will  be  getting  better 
acquainted  with  the  old  bear  that  brought  her  up." 

"  I  do  not  take  much  interest  in  the  lions,"  wrote 
Lucy  a  few  days  later,  "  but  the  bear -is  delightful." 

She  had  never  found  him  more  agreeable  than  on 
the  morning  of  her  encounter  with  Grim,  and  had 
never  herself  been  more  bewitching.  The  brisk  ride 
northward,  past  the  green  lanes,  and  under  the  bud- 
ding trees  ;  around  the  shore  drive,  where  the  ice  drifts 
had  but  just  disappeared  on  the  sands;  through  the 
park,  redolent  of  faint  spring  odors,  and  back  through 
the  long  avenues,  in  the  face  of  the  warm,  south  wind, 
quickened  the  old  major's  blood,  and  heightened  the 
charms  of  the  little  beauty  beside  him.  When  be 
extended  his  hands  to  help  her  from  the  carriage,  at 
the  hotel  entrance,  she  put  both  her  own  in  them, 
sprang  lightly  to  the  ground,  and  still  holding  him 
fast,  lifted  a  glowing  face  toward  his. 


32  Till:    /.•or/.M.YOrA'    STAC!-:. 

"Oh,  I  thank  you  so  much !"  she  said.  "It  has 
been  such  a  delightful  ride;  and  you  are  the  dearest 
major  in  the  world  !  " 

"  Then  why  do  you  steal  my  speeches  right  out  of 
my  mouth?  "  said  he,  pretending  to  scold  her.  "  You 
knew  I  was  just  going  to  pay  yon  a  similar  compli- 
ment, and  you  would  not  allow  me  the  satisfaction." 

The  words  were  not  audible  to  the  group  of  ladies 
who  chanced  to  be  at  that  moment  standing  at  the 
window  of  Mrs.  Transington's  room,  ou  the  floor 
above ;  but  the  look,  the  attitude,  the  momentary 
clinging  together  of  the  two  pairs  of  hands,  could 
not  fail  to  be  noted,  to  the  very  last  item. 

"  There  !  What  do  you  call  that,  I  should  like  to 
know!"  cried  Mrs.  Transington.  Mrs.  Transingtou 
had  a  special  reason  for  wishing  it  called  a  love 
scene. 

"  Call  it !  "  said  Mrs.  Whortle  ;  "  why,  I  call  it  just 
what  it  is,  my  dear  —  nothing  at  all;  that  is,  nothing 
significant.  You  may  see  Louise,  here,  part  from  her 
father  in  the  same  way,  any  day,  may  n't  she,  Louise? 
Any  stranger  would  take  them  for  father  and  daugh- 
ter, and  so  they  are,  in  everything  but  blood." 

Mr*.  Whortlc  was  reputed  to  desire  the  major  as  a 
son-in-law.  This  was  Mrs.  Transington's  special 
reason  for  wishing  to  prove  him  the  lover  of  his 
ward. 


>-AT.V  .i.v  ^IAYVA'L.  33 


"Father  and  daughter!  Oh,  Mrs.  Whortle  !  " 
laughed  she;  "what  a  dear,  matter-of-fact  soul  you 
are  !  Why,  you  would  n't  recognize  Cupid  himself  if 
you  saw  him,  wings,  arrows,  and  all;  now  would 
you?" 

At  that  moment  a  brisk  step  was  heard  in  the  'hall, 
and  Lucy  paused  at  the  door  on  her  way  to  her  own 
rooms,  her  face  still  glowing  with  excitement  and 
pleasure. 

k*  May  I  come  in?  "  she  asked. 

"Indeed  you  shall,"  said  Mrs.  Transington,  "and 
go  down  on  your  knees  to  us,  for  stealing  the  heart  of 
our  precious  major.  Come,  will  you  do  it?  " 

"And  promise  never,  never  to  speak  to  him  again?" 
added  Mrs.  Whortle.  "  Then  we  will  give  you  some 
of  our  bonbons." 

"  And  tell  you  some  nice  gossip,"  said  Mrs.  Traus- 
ington. 

"  And  praise  your  pretty  spring  suit,"  said  Louise. 

"  Praises  and  bonbons  I  will  take,"  answered  Lucy 
gayly.  "  and  go  on  my  knees  for  them  if  you  wish  ; 
but  my  own  true  love  I  will  not  abjure." 

In  vain  the  others  scanned  her  merry  face  for  the 
faintest  sign  of  embarrassment,  either  then  or  while 
she  was  describing  the  ride,  with  plentiful  reference  to 
her  guardian.  She  could  "dear  major"  him  with  the 
best  of  them  without  a  blush. 


34  THE  XOCKANOCK  STAGE. 

From  this  the  ladies  drew  opposite  conclusions,  as 
good  logicians  may  always  do  from  any  given  premise. 
It  might  mean  that  there  was  nothing  between  them  ; 
and  it  might  mean  that  it  was  an  affair  of  long 
standing. 

"What  did  I  tell  you?"  said  Mrs.  Trausington 
after  Lucy  had  gone. 

"  What  did  I  tell  you?"  said  Mrs.  Whortle. 


CHAPTER  III. 

SUNDAY    THEATRICALS. 

angel's  visit  which  had  so  glorified  Grim's 
-*~  Saturday  did  not  make  him  forget  the  enter- 
tainment to  which  he  had  invited  himself  on  Sunday, 
nor  neglect  necessary  arrangements  for  securing  his 
private  box  as  he  had  proposed* 

No.  43  had  originally  been  twice  its  present  size. 
For  the  convenience  of  a  former  tenant  it  had  been 
divided  into  two  compartments  by  a  thin  wooden 
partition.  To  meet  the  economical  views  of  Mr.  Pack, 
one  half  had  been  leased  to  him  separately,  the  pas- 
sage between  being  closed  by  an  ill-fitting  door,  now 
made  worse  fitting  through  shrinkage.  The  remaining 
half,  which  Grim  called  43  Jr.,  had  not  rented  readily 
and  was  now  empty. 

Across  the  partition  door  stood  a  movable  closet 
without  a  back.  This  was  the  private  box  which  the 
dwarf  had  promised  himself  at  the  approaching  enter- 
tainment. Perhaps  he  had  had  previous  experience  of 
its  convenience.  .At  any  rate,  it  was  exactly  to  his 
mind.  Having  thrown  an  old  carpet  over  the  top,  he 
could  shut  himself  into  perfect  darkness,  while  the  ill- 
fitting  door  was  a  most  convenient  medium  through 

to 


:;«;  Tin:  ROCK  AX  OCR 

which  to  see  a  little  and  hear  much  of  what  interested 
him  on  the  other  side  of  the  partition.  It  was  the 
next  brst  thing  to  being  invisibly  present  in  No.  43,  and 
••iKibh-d  him  to  discharge  what  he  considered  his  solemn 
dntv  in  tliis  business  with  comfort  and  success. 

From  a  habit  of  punctuality  and  for  other  reasons, 
he  was  prompt  in  his  attendance.  Indeed,  he  had 
bi-.-n  moiv  than  half  an  hour  in  his  box  before  he 
hoard  Mr.  Pack's  latchkey  in  the  door  of  43. 

'-  Come  in.  Velucius ! "  whispered  Grim  softly. 
"  Come  in  and  tell  us  about  Belmont,  'n'  the  doocats, 
'n'  the  major's  envelope,  'n'  all  the  rest  of  it." 

Mr.  Pack  came  in,  closed  the  door  quietly,  as  if 
afraid  of  waking  the  baby,  sniffed  the  air,  opened  the 
window,  relit  the  cigar  in  his  mouth,  and  began  pacing 
the  room. 

"  Savin'  over  his  part,  I  s'pose,"  said  Grim's  lips 
inaudil'ly. 

C  rim  was  mistaken.  The  exercise  in  progress  was 
not  a  rehearsal ;  it  was  an  argument  in  court.  Coun- 
sellor at  the  bar,  V.  Lucius  Pack,  Esq.  ;  plaintiff  and 
defendant,  ditto;  judge,  ditto;  opposing  counsel, 
ditto.  Point  at  issue,  to  determine  whether  the  self- 
respect  of  the  said  plaintiff  had  suffered  any  abatement, 
loss,  detriment,  or  damage  through  the  course  of  the 
defendant  in  the  matter  of  one  certain  Allan 
MacAllan.  The  case  was  closely  contested,  but  the 


SUXDAY    THEATRICALS.  37 

defendant  seemed  to  be  getting  the  best  of  it.  Out- 
side of  this  tribunal  a  general  impression  prevailed 
that  the  defendant  had  no  self-respect.  Mr.  Pack  was 
a  lawyer  of  considerable  practice,  but,  unfortunately, 
a  good  deal  of  it  was  of  a  sort  against  which  the 
public  was  prejudiced.  His  clients  were  often  de- 
nounced as  sharpers,  and  occasionally  as  swindlers 
and  scoundrels,  and  it  is  easy  to  confuse  client  and 
counsel.  If  a  man  wished  to  evade  the  payment  of 
his  debts,  he  retained  Mr.  Pack.  If  a  dishonest  bank- 
ruptcy were  to  be  attempted,  Mr.  Pack  was  relied 
upon.  If  a  land  pirate  wished  to  put  a  cloud  upon  a 
title  or  perpetrate  any  profitable  fraud,  Mr.  Pack  was 
available  as  counsel  and  often,  it  was  alleged,  as  part- 
ner in  the  profits.  His  fellow  lawyers  called  him  a 
shyster ;  others  denominated  him  according  to  their 
own  opinions  of  him  or  their  familiarity  with  impre- 
catory terms. 

Yet  Mr.  Pack  was  really  very  scrupulous.  He 
would  not  have  picked  a  man's  pocket,  or  robbed  him 
on  the  highway,  or  stolen  a  sheep  or  a  chicken,  or 
done  anything  that  he  could  not  reconcile  with  his 
conscience.  If  he  was  more  successful  than  other 
men  in  bringing  his  conscience  over  to  his  side  in 
doubtful  cases,  that  proved  his  skill  as  an  advocate. 
Thus  far  in  his  career  he  could  honestly  say  that  he 
had  never  lost  his  self-respect.  Moreover  he  had  a 


38  THE  ROCTKANOCK  STAG!.'. 

most  estimable  wife,  a  church  member,  who  furnished 
the  religion  of  tin-  family,  and  one  of  whose  articles 
of  /aith  was  that  her  dear  V.  Luc-ius  was  the  best 
husband  living  and,  lac-king  one  thing,  the  best  con- 
ceivable. A  man  who  had  the  approbation  of  his 
conscience  and  his  wife,  and  sent  his  children  regularly 
t<>  Sunday-school,  could  afford  to  despise  the  opinions 
of  his  neighbors. 

The  envelope  which  had  been  providentially  thrown 
in  his  way,  and  which  lie  had  thought  it  unprofessional 
to  give  up  without  examination,  contained  nothing  else 
than  Major  (Alison's  will,  —  "Last  Will  and  T> 
inent,"  as  it  called  itself ;  but  until  the  death  of  the 
.tor,  no  will  can  certainly  know  whether  it  be  the 
last  or  not. 

Among  the  provisions  of  this  will  was  a  bequest  to 
Lucy  Gibson  Darling,  daughter  of  Moses  Darling, 
deceased,  of  two  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  dollars, 
with  interest  at  five  per  cent,  from  the  date  of  her 
majority,  month  and  day  being  duly  specified. 

.  then,  was  a  young  woman,  in  effect  already 
endowed  with  a  handsome  fortune.  And  here  was 
V.  I.uc-ius  Pack.  Ms.].,  providentially  in  possession  of 
the  fact.  Clearly  the  duty  of  the  said  Pack  was  to 
inquire  why  that  knowledge  had  been  thrust  upon  him, 
and  what  use  he  could  make  of  it.  Were  he  a  single 
man —  but  the  supposition  was  useless  and,  to  do  him 


SfXDAY    TIIL'ATHICALS.  39 

justice,  unwelcome.  He  would  not  exchange  his  pretty 
wife  and  babies  for  any  heiress  whatever ;  certainly 
Dot  for  the  chance  of  winning  one. 

But  could  he  not  somehow  levy  a  commission  upon 
this  fortune?  As  a  lawyer  it  was  his  business  to  sell 
his  knowledge  to  those  who  needed  it.  Could  he  not 
sell  this?  As  a  broker  he  negotiated  bargains,  pre- 
sumably benefiting  all  parties,  including  himself .  Was 
there  no  chance  to  fulfill  his  benevolent  mission  here? 
Nay,  was  it  not  evident  that,  having  been  forced  into 
the  business,  he  was  the  chosen  instrument  for  its 
execution?  Let  him  only  find  a  noble  but  impecuni- 
ous young  man,  confide  the  facts  to  him  for  a  con- 
sideration, put  him  in  the  way  to  win  this  rich  and 
doubtless  otherwise  eligible  heiress,  for  a  further  con- 
sideration, and  secure  a  final  commission  on  the  fortune 
when  it  shall  have  been  won,  and  he  will  have -made 
two  young  hearts  happy  and  one  old  purse  somewhat 
heavier. 

To  a  man  less  sanguine  than  Mr.  Pack,  or  less  skill- 
ful in  finding  marketable  material  in  every  sort  of 
document  apparently  irrelevant,  all  this  would  have 
seemed  absurd.  But  to  one  who  gained  his  livelihood 
by  the  accidents,  and  even  the  very  humors  of  specu- 
lation it  was  a  perfectly  serious  piece  of  business. 

As  a  part  of  that  providence  by  which  Mr.  Pack 
seemed  now  to  be  borne  along,  there  appeared  upon 


10  THE  EOCKAXOCK  STAGE. 

the  scene  at  this  critical  juncture  his  old  friend  and 
kinsman,  Allan  MacAllan.  His  entree  could  not  have 
been  better  timed  in  a  fairy  story  or  a  drama.  Mr. 
Mac  Allan  belonged  to  a  once  wealthy  family  in  Mary- 
laud.  His  father  left  him  a  few  thousands  which  he 
had  kept  mainly  intact,  but  which  were  quite  inade- 
quate to  afford  him  that  life  of  luxury  which  he 
desired.  He  had  lived  for  several  years  in  Washing- 
ton, had  tried  bis  hand  at  politics,  had  held  for  a  time 
an  insignificant  government  office,  had  been  rejected 
by  two  or  three  heiresses,  and  finally  had  come  West, 
hoping  to  find  fresh  fields  and  better  fortune.  He  had 
the  manners  of  a  gentleman,  dressed  faultlessly,  and 
commonly  thought  to  be  handsome,  a  point  freely 
conceded  by  himself.  He  also  held  firmly  to  the  con- 
viction, in  spite  of  his  repeated  jilts,  that  he  had 
extraordinary  ability  to  impress  the  female  heart,  and 
that  with  an  artless  and  heart-free  maiden  and  a  fair 
chance  to  woo  her,  he  would  be  irresistible.  Of  course 
he  was  a  godsend  to  Mr.  Pack,  who  had  no  sooner 
set  eyes  upon  him  than  he  saw  the  solution  of  the 
legacy  business  as  clearly  as  if  the  young  people  were 
already  married  and  he  had  his  commission  in  his 
pocket. 

He  was  far  too  shrewd,  however,  to  propose  the 
matter  to  Mr.  Mat-Allan.  He  knew  the  kind  of  man 
he  had  to  deal  with  and  meant  that  the  proposition 


SUNDAY  THEATRICALS.  41 

should  come  from  him.  Providence  again  favored 
him  by  sending  the  major  to  the  block  at  the  right 
moment  one  morning,  and  marching  him  past  the  door 
of  No.  43. 

"Who  is  that  old  Kaiser?"  asked  Mac  All  an  ;  "I 
saw  him  at  the  Tremont  this  morning." 

"That,  don't  you  know?  Of  course  you  don't. 
Why,  that 's  our  landlord,  Major  Gibson.  I  '11  intro- 
duce you  to  him  when  we  get  the  right  chance." 

"  Owns  this  block,  eh?" 

"This  block?  yes,  and  no  end  of  other  property. 
They  say  he 's  worth  a  million  or  so ;  I  don't  know." 

Mr.  MacAllan  began  to  be  interested.  u  Introduce 
me,  by  all  means,"  he  said.  "  Any  daughters,  now?" 

Mr.  Pack  laughed.  "Not  exactly,  Mack.  He's 
an  old  bachelor." 

Mr.  MacAllan's  face  fell.  "  What  can  an  old 
bachelor  do  with  a  million  dollars?" 

"  Give  it  to  his  ward,  I  suppose,  or  something  of 
that  sort,"  said  Pack  carelessly. 

Mr.  MacAllau's  face  rose  again.  "Aha!  there's 
a  ward,  then?  Fine  or  superfine?" 

"Superfine." 

"  Marriageable?" 

"  Rather ;  what  they  call  a  sweet  girl  graduate, 
about  eighteen  or  twenty,  and  reported  to  be  uncom- 
monly bright  and  handsome." 


42  TllK   no<;KAXOCK  STAGE. 

••  Where  is  she?" 

"Couldn't  give  her  exact  latitude  and  longi- 
tude, but  somewhere  between  here  and  the  Atlantic 
Ocean." 

"  Coming  this  way?" 

"  Coming  this  way,  Mack,  and  expected  in  Chicago 
to-morrow."  Mr.  Pack  had  taken  means  to  get  the 
facts  with  great  accuracy,  though  he  feigned  to  be 
quite  indifferent  concerning  them,  while  he  piqued  his 
friend's  curiosity  to  the  utmost. 

"  Will  the  honorable  gentleman  question  the  witness 
any  further?"  he  asked. 

"  What  ground  had  you  for  saying  that  her  guardian 
would  leave  his  property  te  her?"  said  MacAllan. 

"  Let  not  the  honorable  gentleman  try  the  fallacia 
jiJnrium  interrogationum  or  any  other  pettifogging 
dodge  on  me,"  said  Mr.  Pack.  "  I  made  no  such 
statement.  I  merely  suggested  the  thing  as  possible." 

"  Is  that  all  you  know  about  it?  " 

"  I  cannot  swear  that  it  is." 

So  the  dialogue  went  on,  until  Mr.  Pack  confided 
to  his  friend,  though  protesting  many  misgivings, 
and  yielding  only  under  favor  of  the  strongest  friend- 
ship, that,  in  a  confidential  and  strictly  professional 
way,  he  knew  that  Miss  Darling  was  to  have  a  quarter 
of  a  million  from  her  guardian,  and  that  neither  she 
nor  the  public  had  any  suspicion  of  the  fact. 


SUNDAY   THEATRICALS.  43 

"  Good  enough !"  said  MacAllan.  "She  does  not 
know  it ;  therefore  she  will  not  be  putting  on  airs. 
The  public  does  not  know  it ;  therefore  there  will  not 
be  a  horde  of  mercenary  suitors  in  the  way.  Do  you 
know  of  any  at  all?" 

"  N-n-n-o,  not  exactly  what  you  may  call  a  suitor, 
but"  — 

"But  what?" 

••  \\rell,  there  's  a  client  of  mine,  a  particular  friend, 
to  whom  I  'm  sort  of  committed ;  at  least  he  thinks 
so,  I  suppose.  '  Pack,'  said  he,  '  I  want  you  to  look 
me  up  a  nice  encumbered  estate.' ' 

"Encumbered  estate?"  said  MacAllan.  "What 
did  he  want  an  encumbered  estate  for?" 

"  Oh,  that 's  a  name  we  have  for  the  fortune  of  a 
marriageable  woman.  You  are  aware,  no  doubt,  that 
that  kind  of  property  is  regularly  handled  in  the 
market,  just  like  any  other.  Plenty  of  brokers  do  a 
big  business  in  that -line.  The  woman,  of  course, 
isn't  a  party  to  the  transaction,  knows  nothing  of  it, 
till  some  fine  day  a  nice  young  man  is  introduced. 
Pupa  thinks  well  of  him  ;  mamma  smiles  upon  him; 
society  events  conspire  to  throw  them  together. 
Acquaintance,  courtship,  proposal,  engagement,  mar- 
riage, follow  in  due  order,  and  the  happy  man  comes 
round  at  his  convenience  to  settle  with  the  broker  who 
put  him  on  the  track,  contrived  the  introductions, 


44  THE  ROCKAXOCK  STA< 

supplied  the  parents  with  opinions,  ami  invisibly  man- 
aged the  whole  affair." 

"You  don't  mean  to  tell  me  that  such  things  are 
actually  done  ?  " 

1 1  You  don't  mean  to  tell  rne  that  you  never  heard  of 
it  before?  Come,  come,  old  boy;  and  you  a  society 
man,  and  ten  years  in  Washington  !  " 

Mr.  Mat-Allan  was  asluum-d  of  his  ignorance  of  so 
familiar  a  method,  and  straightway  reflected  that  some 
of  his  own  matrimonial  ventures  might  have  been  more 
fortunate  had  he  availed  himself  of  such  aid. 

"  It  strikes  me  as  a  pretty  good  scheme,"  said  he, 
"  and  perfectly  honorable." 

"Honorable!  Why,  my  dear  fellow,  it's  benevo- 
lent. It 's  religious.  It 's  a  sort  of  home  missions, 
and  is  undertaken  by  some  of  the  most  devout  men  in 
our  churches  —  elders,  Sunday-school  superintendents, 
and  all  that  sort  of  thing.  You  see  a  man  must  have 
character  and  social  position-in  order  to  succeed. 
They  don't  advertise,  you  understand ;  not  a  bit  of  it. 
It  would  n't  do.  Everything  strictly  private.  Prob- 
ably you  couldn't  find  one  of  them,  if  you  tried  a 
week.  But  I  know  them.  On  their  books  they  have 
lists  of  this  sort  of  property  —  daughters  of  wealthy 
men,  heiresses  in  their  own  right,  rich  widows,  divorced 
women  with  a  handsome  settlement,  and  so  forth  and 
so  on.  Any  of  them  will  marry  if  the  right  man  asks 


SUXDAY    THEATRICALS.  45 

them  ;  and  for  every  one  of  them  there  are  twenty 
splendid  fellows  waiting  for  just  such  chances  and  not 
knowing  where  to  find  them.  Now  comes  in  your  good 
missionary,  removes  difficulties,  arranges  preliminaries  ; 
and  gallantry  and  susceptibility  do  all  the  rest.  Of 
course  when  a  man  g<'ts  a  fortune  in  that  way  he  feels 
liberal,  and  pays  a  handsome  commission  without 
grumbling." 

"  And  so  you  're  a  little  in  the  missionary  line, 
yourself,  eh?  " 

"  Oh,  a  little,  very  little  indeed.  I  don't  make  a 
business  of  it,  you  understand.  When  young  Vander- 
nack —  best  fellow  in  the  world  —  urged  me  to  do 
something  for  him,  at  first  I  would  n't  listen  to  him. 
Says  I,  '  Vandernack,  I  have  n't  anything  that  will  suit 
you.'  But  tiie  fellow  wouldn't  take  No;  so  finally  I 
said,  '  Well,  I'll  see  what  I  can  find.'  I  had  no  idea 
that  such  a  gold  mine  as  this  would  turn  up  within  a 
week." 

At  this  point  Mr.  Pack  remembered  an  engagement 
which  made  it  impossible  to  pursue  the  subject  further, 
lie  therefore  excused  himself,  leaving  Mr.  Allan  Mac- 
Allan  in  precisely  the  state  of  mind  that  was  to  be  de- 
sired,—  seeing  a  golden  possibility,  to  the  pursuit  of 
which  he  twas  not  quite  ready  to  commit  himself,  yet 
fearing  that  it  would  be  snatched  from  him  by  the 
hand  of  another. 


46  /'///•-'   norKAXOCK  STAGE. 

1 1  is  first  sight  of  Lucy  removed  bis  indecision,  and 
a  long  argument  with  Tack  at  length  convinced  that 
righteous  man  that  his  friend  and  kinsman  had  the 

D 

strongest  chiim  upon  his  good  offices. 

••  Well,  Mack."  he  s:iid  with  a  sigh,  «'  I  hope  I'm 
not  doing  poor  Vandernack  a  wrong.  But  your  happi- 
ness is  dear  to  me  ;  and  of  course  your  marriage  is  a 
matter  of  especial  interest  to  us  all  as  a  family.  I  '11 
throw  my  scruples  aside  and  do  my  very  best  for 
you." 

He  had  explained,  however,  that  in  order  to  secure 
the  proper  arrangement  of  the  social  preliminaries  he 
would  have  to  depend  upon  another  broker  —  one  of  the 
pious  church  officers  before  alluded  to  ;  in  fact  a  Presby- 
terian elder  ;  and  that  it  would  be  imperative  that  Mr. 
MacAllan  conform  to  his  advice  in  all  respects.  The 
elder  would  have  to  be  well  feed  of  course,  but  not 
unreasonably.  Pack  would  see  to  that.  As  to  Pack 
himself,  he  would  have  nothing,  not  a  cent,  Mack. 
Whatever  he  did,  he  did  out  of  pure  friendship. 

I "pon  this  understanding  the  business  had  gone  on, 
day  after  day.  The  holy  man  who  was  alleged  to 
manage  the  affair  was  not  produced  in  person,  and 
was  alluded  to  only  as  "the  elder."  He  required  an 
advance  fee  of  a  hundred  dollars,  and  subsequent  pay- 
ments of  rather  startling  amounts  as  the  business  pro- 
gressed, and  sent  his  reports  and  directions  from  time 


SUNDAY   THEATRICALS.  47 

to  time,  all  through  Mr.  Pack.  It  was  these  facts  and 
counterfeits  of  facts  that  Mr.  Pack  was  contemplating 
during  that  Sunday  afternoon  soliloquy  which  Grim 
mistook  for  a  rehearsal.  While  his  thoughts  yet  dwelt 
fondly  upon  the  fictitious  Vanderuack  and  the  good 
elder  and  the  matrimonial  brokerage  system,  all  cre- 
ations of  his  own  brain,  Mr.  Allan  MacAllan  opened 
the  door,  surprising  his  kinsman  in  a  broad  smile, 
skillfully  passed  off  as  one  of  happy  recognition. 

"Sweet  Bassanio,  well  met,"  said  he,  giving  him  a 
cordial  hand. 

l>  Well  met,  most  noble  signior,"  answered  Mr. 
MacAllan  with  courtly  obeisance. 

"  Ailyuses  and  theater  manners  ag'in,"  said  Grim's 
lips  contemptuously.  "  You  're  two  confounded  ije- 
yuts,  that's  what  you  be." 

Again  poor  Grim  was  mistaken.  The  two  friends 
had  complimented  one  William  Shakespeare  by  dress- 
ing out  their  little  drama  in  some  of  his  stage  property. 
During  the  early  part  of  their  negotiations,  while  they 

> 

were  awaiting  the  movements  of  the  alleged  elder,  they 
had  seen  the  Merchant  of  Venice  played  at  Hooley's 
theater.  The  similarity  of  the  plot  to  their  pwn  was 
obvious.  The  heiress,  the  suitor,  the  devoted  friend, 
the  risking  of  costs  and  of  fate  upon  chance  —  all 
were  there  ;  and  these  merry  actors  at  once  appropriated 
the  phraseology  of  the  play.  Plain  Pack  and  Mack  be- 


4S  Tin:  i;a<'K.\\ocK  STAGE. 

ciinic  my  lords  Antonio  and  Bassanio.  Miss  Darling 
was  the  fair  Portia.  Rockby  was  Bclmont.  The 
scheme  of  a  mercenary  adventurer  was  the  quest  of  an 
ardent  lover.  Thus  a  veil  of  romance  was  thrown 
over  the  plot,  while  at  the  same  time  a  vocabulary  of 
pivtty  archaism  helped  to  secure  it  from  discovery. 
This  was  the  secret  of  the  "theater  words  and  ally- 
uses  "which  had  so  mystified  Grim  and  confirmed 
his  suspicion  that  something  deep  was  going  on. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE    MERRY    BOND. 

Q1 CARCELY  had  the  two  Venetian  lords  exchanged 
salutations  when  the  door  opened  again,  and 
there  entered  an  oldish  man  with  grizzly  hair  and 
beard,  long  nose,  and  large  stomach,  wearing  a  smok- 
ing cap,  gown,  and  slippers. 

"Ah,  Mr.  Krauntz  ! "  exclaimed  Pack,  "glad  to 
see  you.  This  is  my  friend  Mr.  MacAllan,  Mr. 
Krauntz." 

Mr.  Krauntz  was  "ferry  glat  to  zee  Meester  Ollen- 
mac*."  Mr.  MacAllan  was  very  happy,  he  was  sure, 
to  meet  "  Mr.  Crowns."  Grim's  lips  shaped  some 
characteristic  comments  upon  the  new  arrival,  and 
upon  the  trio  generally. 

Chairs  and  cigars  having  been  provided  by  Mr. 
Pack,  the  three  men  formed  a  triangle  and  proceeded 
to  give  Grim  the  entertainment  to  which  he  had  in- 
vited himself.  To  his  great  satisfaction  they  sat 
within  range  of  the  second  best  crack  in  the  door, 
rnabling  him  to  see  as  well  as  hear  them.  Aliases 
and  theater  words  had  been  dropped  since  the  en- 
trance of  Mr.  Krauntx  ;  but  it  was  evident  that  he 
was  to  take  a  leading  part,  in  the  play.  In  fact,  he 

4'J 


50  THE  ROCKANOCK  STAGE. 

was  assigned  the  r61e  of  Shylock,  which  was  perfectly 
suited  to  his  talents. 

"  Veil,"  he  began,  looking  squarely  at  Mr.  MacAllan, 
"now  vee  come  us  to  beezniss,  eh?  Yoo  t'ink  yoo 
vill  git  dem  vooman,  if  you  haf  money  nuff?" 

Mr.  MacAllan  colored  with  embarrassment  and 
resentment,  that  the  sanctities  of  his  heart  should  be 
thus  rudely  invaded  by  a  stranger.  "  I  have  not 
exactly  put  it  in  that  bald  way,"  he  replied. 

"Bait?  bait?"  said  Krauntz  sharply.  "  Vot  vay 
is  dat?  I  put  in  der  vay  vot  he  is.  So  you  lika  not 
my  vay,  mebbe  you  lika  not  my  dollars,  eh?"  • 

"  Come,  come,  Krauntz,.  you  old  reprobate!"  said 
Pack,  laughing,  "you  know  how  a  young  man  feels 
about  his  love  affairs;  don't  be  rough  on  him.  ^  Of 
course  he'll  get  her  if  he  has  a  fair  chance.  What 
you  and  I  propose  to  do  is  to  give  him  a  fair  chance, 
and,  so  far  as  you  are  concerned,  at  a  fair  price." 

"  Dass  ees  beezniss,"  said  Krauntz. 

"Business?  Of  course  it's  business,"  replied 
Pack;  "and  that  isn't  saying  there's  no  sentiment 
in  it,  or  romance,  or  anything  of  that  sort.  That 's 
Mr.  MacAllan's  affair.  Ours  is  simply  the  com- 
mercial transaction  involved  —  the  loan,  the  rate,  and 
the  security,  eh,  Krauntz?" 

"  Dasswhassamatter,"  said  Krauntz. 

"Of  course  it  is,"  said  Pack,  "and  there  needn't 


THE  MERRY  BOND.  51 

be  any  palaver  about  it,  or  any  roundabout  questions. 
The  preliminary  points  are  all  understood  on  both 
sides.  Mr.  MacAllan  is  going  to  Rockby  for  certain 
reasons  satisfactory  to  himself  and  his  attorney.  It 
is  necessary  that  he  have  some  ostensible  business 
there  and  some  available  funds.  You  can  help  him 
to  both,  and  do  yourself  a  good  turn  at  the  same  time, 
as  I  have  already  showed  you." 

*'  Dassallright,"  said  Krauntz. 

"  So  you  said  yesterday  when  I  suggested  it  to  you. 
And  since  you  are  still  of  the  same  mind,  it  will  be 
all  right  for  you  to  state  to  Mr.  MacAllan  precisely 
what  your  proposition  is." 

Thus  brought  to  the  point,  Mr.  Krauntz  took  his 
cigar  from  his  mouth  and  prepared  to  put  his  proposal 
into  the  peculiar  dialect  of  which  he  was  master.  But 
after  a  moment's  meditation,  and  one  or  two  unintel- 
ligible grunts,  he  said,  amid  a  series  of  nods  to  Mr. 
Pack,  "  I  guess  better  yoo  tellim,  Pack." 

This  was  precisely  what  Mr.  Pack  wished  and  ex- 
pected. Krauntz  was  a  client  —  some  said  a  partner 
—  of  the  lawyer,  having  frequent  occasion  for  that 
gentleman's  knowledge  of  the  intricacies  of  the  law, 
and  paying  for  it  according  to  the  profits  which  it 
secured  him  —  a  more  equitable  basis,  one  might 
think,  than  that  upon  which  lawyers  are  usually  paid. 
He  was  a  capitalist  who  preferred  to  make  small  loans 


52  TEE  BOCKANOCK  STAGE. 

at  high  rates.     He  was  a  speculator   who  traded   in 
slender  chances  for  large  returns. 

In  Mr.  Mae  Allan's  affairs  he  was  needed  in  both 
capacities.  The  point  had  been  reached  where  more 
capital  was  needed  and  where  no  one  without  a  genius 
for  fantastic  speculation  would  furnish  it.  Krauntz 
was  the  very  man  for  the  occasion.  Pack  had  readily 
convinced  him  of  the  soundness  of  the  scheme,  and 
had  removed  MacAllan's  objections  to  taking  such  an 
ally  into  their  counsels.  Having  prepared  the  way 
and  brought  the  parties  together,  he  naturally,  as  the 
attorney  of  each,  preferred  to  manage  the  negotiations. 

With  the  details  of  the  bargain,  and  the  long  dis- 
cussion which  they  involved,  it  would  be  an  imposition 
t<>  trouble  the  reader.  Even  poor  Grim,  pricked  with 
the  keenest  suspicion  and  curiosity,  found  himself 
nodding  before  the  business  was  done  with.  Two 
items  ouly  are  of  any  present  interest  in  our  story. 
Kruunt/c  \v:is  to  furnish  the  necessary  funds  upon 
securities  which  Mr.  Pack  declared  satisfactory,  and 
upon  terms  with  which  Shylock  himself  might  well 
have  been  pleased.  He  was  also  to  employ  Mr. 
Mac  Allan  in  the  capacity  of  a  loan  and  collection 
aiit-nt  in  Rofkl)y  and  vicinity  where  he  already  had  a 
number  of  debtors,  mostly  small  farmers.  Pack  was 
to  draw  nil  necessary  papers  the  next  day,  a  Sunday 
contract  being  of  course  illegal. 


THE  MEKJiY  BOND.  53 

"  Well,  Meester  Ollenmac,"  said  Krnnutz,  rising  at 
last  and  offering  a  rather  grimy  hand,  "  I  hope  you  be 
successful  all-a-times  in  you  beezuiss  aud  my  beezuiss." 

u  Successful !  "  exclaimed  Pack.  "  He  cau't  help 
it,  you  know." 

'•  If  I  am,"  said  MacAllan,  with  a  bow  and  & 
gesture  which  displayed  his  high  breeding  to  the  best 
advantage,  "  I  shall  owe  it  all  to  you  and  Mr.  Crowns, 
and  I  shall  not  forgot  my  obligations." 

'•  Yah,  yah,  yah,  dass  all  right,"  said  Krauntz. 

"  Pretty  poor  show,  I  call  it,"  grumbled  the  dwarf 
as  he  crawled  from  his  private  box  after  the  three  men 
were  out  of  hearing. 

It  was  late  on  that  Sunda}*  afternoon  when  Pack  and 
MacAllan  entered  the  hotel.  The  better  to  enjoy  their 
talk,  they  passed  the  elevator  and  ascended  the  stairs. 
It  had  I  teen  settled  that  MacAllan  should  leave  for 
Rockby  the  next  afternoon.  The  elder,  so  Pack  said, 
had  advised  that  he  precede  rather  than  follow  Lucy 
thither,  in  order  that  his  going  might  not  be  suspected 
of  having  any  reference  to  her.  He  had  also  forbidden 
any  attempt  to  make  an  impression  on  her  in  her  pres- 
ent circumstances,  though  he  had  given  very  strong 
encouragement  that  an  introduction  might  be  effected. 
Mr.  Pack  had  accompanied  his  friend  to  the  hotel  at 
this  time,  hoping  that  some  accident  would  further 
such  a  plan.  Hearing  music  on  the  second  floor,  they 


:,  1  THE  EOCKANOCK  STAGE. 

strolled  in  the  direction  from  which  it  came.  In  the 
open  door  of  a  private  parlor  stood  two  gentlemen. 

"Ah,  Mr.  Pack!  how  do  you  do,  sir?"  said  the 
older  of  the  two,  giving  the  lawyer  his  hand.  It  was 
Major  (lihson  himself.  Mr.  Pack  responded  politely, 
but  without  betraying  the  delight  which  he  felt,  and 
id  leave  to  proent  his  old  friend  Mr.  MacAllan. 
Tlu'ii  the  two  were  presented  to  Mr.  Transington,  who 
explained  that  they  were  having  a  little  Sunday  after- 
noon sing.  Mr.  Pack  said  that  it  was  a  very  pleasant 
thing  to  do,  and  one  always  observed  in  his  own  home, 
and  asked  Mr.  MacAllan  if  he  remembered  what 
delightful  sings  they  used  to  have  on  Sunday  evenings 
in  the  old  parlor.  Mr.  MacAllan  perfectly  remembered 
it,  not  as  a  matter  of  previous  knowledge,  but  solely 
to  oblige  his  friend,  wondering  the  while  what  was  to 
come  of  this  courteous  falsehood. 

Opposite  the  door  was  the  piano,  at  which  sat  Miss 

Darling  with  a  little  group  crowding  around  her,  all 

trying  to  sing  from  a  single  hymn  book.    The  Whortles 

were  there  and  Mrs.  Transiugton  and  a  Mr.  Austin,  a 

uate  and  guest  of  Mr.  Transington. 

"Oh,  dear!  we  must  have  a  tenor!"  cried  Mrs. 
Transington,  turning  around.  "  Z>o,  major,  be  our 
tenor,  or  else  go  out  into  the  highways  and  hedges  and 
compel  one  to  come  in." 

She  had  come  quite  to  the  door  before  noticing  the 


THE  MEEKY  BOND.  55 

two  strangers  whom  her  husband  could  not  now  help 
presenting.  "  And  Mr.  Pack,  here,"  said  he,  "  is 
the  very  man  you  are  in  search  of  ;  been  in  the  Sunday 
concert  business  all  his  life." 

Mr  Pack  protested,  to  Mrs.  Transington's  evident 
relief,  that  he  did  not  and  could  not  sing,  though 
enjoying  music  exceedingly ;  but  just  as  she  believed 
herself  well  rid  of  him,  he  suggested  that  if  he  might 
be  permitted  to  offer  a  substitute,  his  friend  Mr.  Mac- 
Allan  sang  an  excellent  tenor. 

It  was  in  very  bad  taste ;  but  the  chance  to  bring 
MacAllan  and  Miss  Darling  together  was  too  tempt- 
ing. Of  course  Mr.  MacAllan  was  begged  to  favor 
them  ;  and,  after  expressing  a  stranger's  reluctance  to 
intrude  into  their  pleasant  circle,  and  having  the  objec- 
tion overruled  by  his  fair  petitioner,  who  secretly  wished 
•him  in  Siberia,  he  consented.  The  rest,  supposing 
him  to  be  an  acquaintance  of  the  Transingtons,  cor- 
dially welcomed  his  assistance.  Lucy's  gracious  recep- 
tion of  him,  as  she  rose  from  the  piano,  smiled  upon 
him,  and  prettily  repeated  his  name  after  Mi's.  Traus- 
iugton,  filled  him  with  genuine  embarrassment. 

He  really  sang  very  well  indeed,  and  demeaned 
himself  with  such  modest  politeness  that  by  the  time 
the  singing  was  done  he  had  quite  gained  the  good 
opinion  of  the  company.  "  Who  is  he?  "  they  began 
to  ask  as  soon  as  he  was  gone. 


:,[',  Till:    HOCKA. \-fX-K    STAGE. 

"A  gentleman  of  some  means,  1  bear,"  replied  Mr. 
Tninsinuton,  kk  who  has  lately  come  West  with  a  view 

to  M  Ult'lllrlit." 

"  He  has  been  used  to  good  society,"  remarked 
Mis.  Wliortle  ;  "  anybody  can  see  that." 

"  Comes  of  a  fine  old  Maryland  family,  Mr.  Puck 
tells  me,"  added  the  major. 

••  I  should  like  him  better  with  a  foot  or  two  less  of 
Ward,"  said  Mrs.  Transington. 

"  Oh,  I  think  the  beard  is  perfectly  adorable ! " 
exclaimed  Miss  Whortle.  k' I  wonder  if  he  dances  as 
well  as  he  sings.  We  must  invite  him  to  our  hop  on 
Thursday.  May  n't  I,  mamma?  " 

"He  leaves  the  city  to-morrow,"  said  the  major; 
4k  he  does  not  fancy  Chicago,  it  seems,  but  wishes  to 
find  some  quiet,  healthful  place  not  too  far  away." 

"  And  I  shall  never  dance  with  him,  and  never,  no 
never,  see  him  again  ;  how  cruel !  " 

kk  He  wouldn't  dance  with  you  anyway,  Louise," 
said  Mrs.  Transington.  "He's  too  pious;  I  know 
by  the  way  he  sang  the  hymns.  Such  fervor  !  such 
emotion!  You  could  hear  it  in  the  very  tones  of  his 
voice.  Dance,  indeed  !  " 

"  He  may  be  awful  pious,"  said  Mr.  Whortle,  coin- 
in::  to  his  daughter's  relief,  "  but  he  's  in  with  a  pre- 
cious rascal  —  that  Pack.  Ask  the  major." 

"Mr.  Pack  is  a  tenant  of  iniue,"  responded  the 
major,  smiling  evasively. 


THE  MERHY  liOXD.  57 

"  And  likewise  a  swindler  and  an  attorney  of 
swindlers.  I  know  him." 

"  Then  you  ought  to  warn  Mr.  McCullom,  orwhatever 
his  name  is,  against  him,  papa,"  said  Louise  warmly. 

Meantime  the  reputed  saint  and  sinner  were  lei- 
surely ascending  the  stairs  toward  the  third  floor. 
Both  were  a  good  deal  elated  by  what  had  taken 
place  ;  Mac  Allan  because  he  had  met  Miss  Darling 
under  circumstances  so  auspicious,  and  Pack  because 
lie  had  brought  about  the  meeting. 

"Score  ten  for  Bassanio !"  exclaimed  the  lawyer, 
slapping  the  other  on  the  back.  "  Why,  Mack, 
you've  just  got  a  sure  thing  there!  " 

"  You  believe  it?" 

"  T  know  it.  If  you  had  to  bring  suit  right  here  in 
Chicago,  amid  distractions  and  gayeties,  and  no  end 
of  rivals,  you  'd  win  her.  But  out  there  in  the 
country,  with  nobody  to  compare  with  you  for  looks 
and  manners  and  social  position,  and  with  every 
chance  for  acquaintance,  why,  it's  as  certain  as 
doomsday.  You  can  do  it,  and  not  half  try." 

"  I  don't  feel  so  sure  of  it  as  all  that ;  at  any  rate, 
I  shall  more  than  half  try.  The  thing  is  getting 
rather  interesting,  that 's  a  fact,  aside  from  the  pecun- 
iary consideration.  The  girl  is  uncommonly  pretty  ; 
she  sings  well,  and,  between  you  and  me,  I  almost 
think  I  've  fallen  in  love  with  her." 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE   ROCKANOCK    STACK. 

WARNOCK  STATION  is  distinguished  as  the 
least  interesting  place  in  the  universe.  Its 
.-he  hud  originally  been  occupied  by  a  low,  gravelly 
mound  embellished  with  mullein  stalks  and  the  skulls 
of  deceased  cows.  But  the  railroads  had  destroyed  its 
picturesque  ugliness,  sweeping  the  whole  mound  into 
the  gulch  beyond,  and  leaving  in  its  place  a  naked 
level  of  tawny  sand  and  clay.  Across  this  half-acre 
desert  ran  the  track  of  the  iron-wheeled  caravans, 
and  in  its  center,  as  a  sort  of  wooden  oasis,  was 
placed  the  incommodious  platform  surmounted  by  the 
still  more  contemptible  depot. 

Here,  as  the  years  went  on,  the  great  world  held 
commerce  with  the  little  rural  world  which  revolved 
about  the  War  nock  desert,  exchanging  wares,  passen- 
gers, and  news,  insinuating  ideas,  and  tempting  away 
the  ambitious  and  the  unwary. 

Here  presided  as  ticket  master,  freight  agent,  jani- 
tor, switch  tender,  and  general  factotum,  a  dilapidated 
pensioner  of  the  road,  who  had  taken  the  customary 
YOU  to  destroy  the  baggage  and  exasperate  the  feel- 
jugs  of  passengers. 


THE  liOCh'ANOCK  STAGE.  59 

Here  were  to  be  found  the  usual  quota  of  depot 
loafers,  posturing  on  trucks  and  benches,  inspecting 
travelers  and  their  belongings,  jesting,  scuffling,  and 
practicing  the  various  other  arts  of  their  profession. 
Here  came  punctually  at  train  time,  in  close-clinging 
couples  or  triplets,  limp,  giggling,  caramel-eating 
young  women,  to  whom  the  momentary  opportunity 
to  stare  and  be  stared  at  was  a  daily  excitement. 

And  here,  to  my  mortification,  must  be  followed  the 
thread  of  our  story.  The  Chicago  train  was  in.  The 
bustle  and  confusion  incident  to  the  ticketing  of  three 
ugers,  and  the  checking  of  a  corresponding 
number  of  trunks,  wa-  at  its  height.  The  depot 
factotum  limped  to  and  fro.  making  the  utmost  of  his 
small  biis;:i.  M.  The  loafers  and  the  limp  young 
women  were  in  position,  presenting  the  usual  series  of 
tableaux,  which  the  passengers  at  the  car  windows  had 
seen  repeated  with  slight  variations  of  costume  and 
scenery  at  a  dozen  or  more  other  stations  already. 

One  figure  in  the  background,  however,  was  unique 
and  striking  —  a  tall,  lean,  long-nosi  d  Yankee,  with 
stooping  shoulders  and  sagging  knees,  surveying  the 
scene  with  dignified  interest,  and  solemnly  chewing  a 
straw.  Had  he  been  a  chameleon  in  pantaloons,  he 
could  not  have  taken  more  perfectly  the  color  of  the 
weather-beaten  planks  on  which  he  stood.  Face, 
hair,  beard,  hat,  clothes,  and  boots,  —  all  alike  were 


60  THE  ROCKANOCK  STAGE. 

washed  and  stained  to  a  common  hue  and  streakiness. 
To  the  same  causes  were  probably  due  the  shortness 
of  his  sleeves  and  trousers  legs,  and  the  shrunken  and 
pueki'ivd  appearance  of  the  suit  generally. 

His  importance  as  a  local  dignitary  was  evident  at 
a  glance.  The  girls  honored  him  with  their  silliest 
banter,  and  the  loafers  with  their  most  elaborate  jokes. 
The  train  men  shook  their  fists  at  him,  and  exchanged 
slang  with  him  as  they  passed.  The  small  boys 
crowded  around  him,  timidly  fingering  the  whiplash 
that  dangled  from  his  hand,  and  grinning  their  admi- 
ration of  every  word  he  spoke.  He  played  the  part 
of  oracle  to  perfection,  accepting  the  attention  paid 
him  as  a  matter  of  course,  and  responding,  as  mag- 
nates should,  in  terms  befitting  the  age,  sex,  and 
quality  of  the  person  addressed. 

Yet,  clearly,  all  this  was  incidental  to  a  more  seri- 
ous purpose.  He  was  not  one  of  the  hangers-on  about 
tin-  station.  He  was  the  person  for  whose  convenience 
tin'  station  existed,  and  expressly  to  meet  whom  the 
train  bad  arrived.  He  was  not  surprised,  therefore, 
\\ht-n  the  conductor,  the  glory  of  whose  blue  uniform 
and  polished  badge  and  buttons  filled  the  tableau- 
makers  with  awe,  pointed  him  out  to  the  sole  arriving 
passenger,  saying,  "  That 's  him,"  while  the  small-boy 
satellites  around  him  exclaimed  under  their  breath, 
"0  Lezer,  there's  a  passenger!" 


STA<;K?" 


THE  ROC  KAN  OCR  STAGE.  61 

Lezer  cast  upon  the  traveler  a  look  of  interest  and 
even  of  benevolence  ;  but  not  one  step  did  he  take, 
not  one  bite  upon  the  straw  did  he  miss.  He  could 
never  lower  himself  to  the  pushing,  job-hunting  ways 
of  the  average  driver.  If  the  gentleman  wanted  any- 
thing of  him,  let  him  come  where  he  was.  The  gentle- 
m:m  did  so.  Then  Lezer  promptly  spat  out  the  straw, 
and  said  in  a  neighborly  and  confidential  way,  as  he 
stretched  his  hand  toward  the  brown  satchel,  "Stage?" 

"  Stage,"  answered  Mr.  MacAllan  with  all  the 
urbanity  of  which  he  was  capable.  He  had  fully  in- 
formed himself  on  the  subject  of  the  Rockanock 
stage,  and  knew  not  only  that  it  was  the  only  public 
conveyance  from  Warnock  to  Rockby,  but  also  that 
the  stage  and  its  driver  constituted  one  of  Rockby's 
peculiar  institutions. 

Peculiar  indeed  was  Lezer  Martin,  and  the  oddest 
of  all  vehicles  was  that  to  which  he  led  Mr.  MacAllau. 
A  weather-worn,  mud-besprinkled,  patched  and  rickety 
affair  it  was,  as  incapable  of  description  as  were  the 
ill-matched  horses  that  drew  it. 

"All!  this  is  the  celebrated  Rockanock  stage!  A 
very  serviceable  stage  it  is  too,  very  serviceable 
indeed,  Mr.  Martin." 

The  shrewd  driver  received  this  'compliment  at  its 
exact  value,  as  the  mendacious  politeness  of  a  man 
who  was  inwardly  saying,  "  Well,  this  is  the  most  ab- 


62  THE  KOCKANOCK  STAGE. 

surd  vehicle  that  ever  I  set  eyes  on."  But  he  did  not 
take  the  remark  amiss,  knowing  the  actual  qualities  of 
the  stage,  and  being  something  of  a  romancer  himself. 

"  Wall,  it  is,"  said  he.  "  You  hit  it  the  first  time, 
knnnlc.  I  '.\i>t>eted  you  would.  Some  folks  can't  see 
any  good  p'ints  in  that  air  stage  at  all —  begin  ter  find 
fault  with  it  right  off,  or  else  laugh  at  it.  But  you  — 
you  're  a  jedge  o'  stages.  I  knowed  it  es  quick  es  I 
see  ye.  I  was  kinder  sizin'  on  yer  up,  ye  see,  as  ye 
come  along  toward  me,  and  I  sez  to  myself,  sez  I, 
'  There  's  a  man  'at  is  a  jedge  o'  rollin'  stock ! ' ' 

The  solemn  earnestness  with  which  Martin  spoke, 
looking  MacAllan  squarely  in  the  eyes,  with  every 
sign  of  sincerity,  completely  dispelled  the  suspicion 
that  he  was  jesting  and  convinced  MacAllau  that  the 
man  was  a  fool. 

41  You  do  me  too  much  honor,"  protested  the  driver's 
victim. 

"  Not  at  all,  not  at  all,  kunnle.  I  dunno  's  it 's  enny 
honor  at  all ;  but  fax  is  fax.  I  've  a  good  mine  to  tell 
ye  how  that  air  stage  wuz  got  up.  'T  was  my  own  idee, 
an'  I  never  told  more  'n  two  or  three  men  in  my  life." 

Mr.  MacAllan  hoped  that  he  might  be  the  next  to 
hear  the  secret. 

"  Wall,  I  'm  jest  goin'  to  tell  ye, -there  !  for  I  know 
you  kin  take  it  in.  Ye  see,  I  used  to  be  a  lanskip 
painter." 


THE  ROCKANOCK  STAGE.  (\'.\ 

"  You  !  " 

"  Bless  ye,  jis  ;  reggerlar.  natteral  artist  I  was,  but 
I  bed  ter  give  it  up  on  account  o'  my  eyes.  "Wall, 
when  I  took  up  stage  driviu',  I  sez  ter  myself,  sez  I, 
•  I  '11  carry  our  my  artistic  principles,  here,  one  o'  which 
is  not  ter  paint  a  picture  like  anything  in  creation,  but 
ter  pick  out  the  poottyist  things  in  a  hull  lot  of  Ian- 
skips,  and  put  'em  all  together  inter  one.  What's 
good  in  a  lanskip  is  good  in  a  stage,'  sez  I.  Ye  see 
I  'm  a  gre't  hand  to  reason  about  things.  I  studied 
law  quite  a  spell  once ;  but,  bless  my  soul !  I  could  n't 
sturamick  it  nohow ;  all  that  lyin'  and  deceivin'  and 
twistin'  jedge  an'  jury  'round yer  thumb,  jes  for  pay! 
Wall,  I  got  ter  reasonin'  about  it ;  an'  when  I  git  ter 
reasonin'  about  a  thing,  it 's  got  ter  come.  Sez  I  ter 
myself,  '  What 's  good  in  a  lauskip  is  good  in  a  stage, 
an'  I  '11  hev  a  stage  'at  '11  beat  that  air  old  deacon's  oue- 
-liay  all  ter  nothiu'.  He  built  accordin'  ter  logict, 
and  I  '11  build  accordin'  ter  art,'  sez  I.  Wall,  I 
buckled  to  an'  writ  up  a  lot  o'  notusiz.  Ye  see  I  wuz 
a  oncommon  good  writer ;  I  used  ter  teach  writin'  for  a 
liviu',  but  the  rheumntiz  got  inter  my  hand  so't  I  bed 
ter  give  it  up.  Wall,  I  writ  these  air  notusiz,  an' 
stuck  'em  up  all  'round,  saying  'at  I  wanted  ter  buy  a 
stage.  T  ua'n't  two  days  afore  I  bed  all  sorts  o' 
vebickles  offered  me — *  omnibuses,  hacks,  carryalls, 
emmygrant  waggins,  au'  what  not.  Wall,  I  sez  to  one 


64  THE   ROCKANOCK   STAKE. 

man,  sez  I,  '  I  like  your  furred  ex  ;  but  I  don't  like  the 
rest  of  yer  rig.'  So  I  bought  his  forred  ex.  I  sez  to 
another  man,  'Yer  forred  wheels  suit  me,  but  nothin' 
else  does.'  So  I  bought  his  forred  wheels.  An'  so  I 
kep'  on,  gettin'  my  hind  ex  here  and  my  hiud  wheels 
tin- iv,  and  my  reaches  yonder,  an'  so  forth  an'  so  on, 
till  I  got  together  the  hull  stage,  jest  as  ye  see  it  now. 
An'  ther'  ain't  another  like  it  in  the  country.  You 
know  ther'  ain't,  kuuule  ;  sech  variety,  an'  yet  sech  a 
—  sech  a  —  toot um  samble,  as  we  say  in  art." 

The  earnest  and  almost  inspired  manner  in  which 
this  story  was  tuld  made  it  impossible  to  doubt  it,  even 
if  the  stage  itself  had  not  confirmed  every  word. 
'•  There  she  stands,  kunnle,"  said  the  great  artist. 
"  Don't  take  rny  word  for  uothiu'.  Look  for  yourself  ; 
seein'  's  believin'." 

4 

Feeling  that  he  had  responded  sufficiently  to  Mac- 
Allan's  sham  compliment,  he  turned  away  before  the 
man  should  iveover  himself  to  reply. 

"Make  yerself  ter  hum,  kunnle,"  said  he. 
"There's  an  hour  before  the  down  train's  due,  an' 
she  may  be  late.  Then  we  've  got  ter  wait  for  the 
mail  ter  be  changed.  But  what's  the  odds?  You 
ain't  in  no  hurry  ;  I  knowd  that  the  minute  I  see  ye. 
Sez  I  ter  myself,  '  There's  a  reel  gentleman,' sez  I,  an 
a  reel  gentleman  never 's  in  a  hurry.  It's  these  here 
upstarts  an'  impostors  that's  allus  a-frettiu'  an'  fumiu' 


THE  EOCKANOCK  STAGE.  65 

an'  keep  things  stirred  up.  Wall,  if  you  like  to  set  in 
the  stage,  you  '11  find  a  mighty  soft  seat.  I  got  them 
cushions  out  of  a  three-hundred-dollar  hack.  '  I  '11 
buy  yer  cushins,'  sez  I  ter  the  man,  'but  I  wouldn't 
take  the  rest  as  a  gift.'  You  jes  try  'em,  kunnle,  an' 
if  you  like  readin',  there 's  a  last  week's  Tri-bune 
under  the  hind  cushi'n.  Or,  if  ye  drather  go  round 
an'  see  the  place,  go  ahead  ;  you  '11  hear  me  blowing 
my  horn  when  it's  time  ter  start.  I  'm  an  awful  horn- 
blower  ;  I  use  ter  play  in  a  brass  band  afore  my 
fingers  got  so  stiff  with  rheumatiz." 

Mr.  MacAllau  availed  himself  of  all  the  privileges 
offered  him,  and  of  some  others.  He  made  a  careful 
study  of  the  stage,  in  the  light  of  Martin's  state- 
incuts,  and  was  more  and  more  convinced  of  their 
accuracy.  The  vehicle  had  evidently  been  constructed, 
or  rather  collected,  in  the  manner  described.  The 
name  alone  seemed  to  belong  to  it  in  its  own  proper 
capacity.  Across  the  three  side  curtains  had  once  been 
painted  in  red  letters  the  legend,  "  ROCKBY,  MAYO,  AND 
W.\ KNOCK."  By  much  flopping  and  rolling  and  many 
a  driving  shower,  one  half  the  characters  had  been 
made  illegible,  leaving  only  the  first  syllable  of 
Uockby,  the  last  of  Warnock,  and  a  single  letter  only 
of  Mayo,  "  ROCKANOCK."  Regarding  the  change 
:is  wrought  by  providential  causes,  and  liking  the 
abbreviated  form  better  than  the  original,  the  propri- 


G6  THE  ROCKAXOCK  8TAUK. 

etor  did  riot  attempt  a  restoration.  "  It  makes  sense," 
said  he,  "and  it's  easier  to  speak;  Rockanock  it  is, 
and  Rockanock  let  it  be."  The  horses  matched  the 
stage  but  not  each  other.  One  was  a  sorrel  and  one  a 
dingy  gray  ;  one  carried  his  head  at  the  level  of  his 
back,  the  other  held  his  stiffly  erect,  with  a  lean,  jerky 
neck  and  outstretched  nose  ;  one  was  furnished  with  a 
yard  or  more  of  draggled  and  threadbare  tail,  the 
other  waved  in  air  a  little  tufted  stump.  The  har- 
nesses, too,  were  as  remarkable  for  variety  and  for 
"  tootum  samble"  as  the  coach  itself. 

Mr.  MacAllan  had  exhausted  these  and  other  objects 
of  contemplation,  the  contents  of  his  morning  paper, 
his  cigar,  "  the  place,"  much  of  the  surrounding  coun- 
try, and  all  of  his  patience,  when  the  horn  announced 
the  time  for  departure.  To  his  disgust  he  found  that 
a  couple  of  mulatto  girls  were  among  the  passengers, 
and  had  actually  taken  possession  of  the  best  seat, 
with  its  luxurious  hack  cushions.  Seeing  his  irrita- 
tion, the  driver  offered  him  a  place  upon  the  box, 
which,  though  he  was  not  in  the  mood  for  further  dis- 
course with  the  irrepressible  Jehu,  he  was  fain  to 
accept  as  the  least  of  two  evils. 

"Do  you  have  many  of  that  sort  of  folks  in 
Rock  by?"  he  aski-d  us  they  drove  on. 

"  Too  many,  too  many,  kuunle,"  answered  Martin 
sadly.  "Thcy's  too  many  of  'em  everywhere.  They 


THE  IKX-h'AMK'K  STAGE.  07 

had  n't  orter  bo  allowed,  colored  folks  had  n't.  What 
business  hev  they  ter  go  round  in  joy  in'  Iheirselves 
like  white  folks?  Some  people  sez  emancipation  give 
'em  rights  ;  some  sez  the  constooshnul  'men'raents  give 
'em  rights  ;  some  sez  God  Almighty  made  'em  es  they 
be  ;  some  sez  they  can't  help  ther  color ;  some  sez  it 's 
only  skin  deep ;  some  sez  we  're  all  colored  more  or 
Course  we  be  ;  me  'u'  you  are  darker  this  minute 
'an  them  air  two  gals  is.  '  But  what  of  it?'  sez  I; 
'does  that  make  black  white  or  white  black?'  Some 
sez  you  can't  bring  forred  no  sound  argyment  fer 
dispizin'  on  'em.  '  What  of  it?  '  sez  I.  '  I  don't  need 
ter  argy  nothin'  about  it.  It 's  yer  feelin's  you  Ve  got 
ter  go  by.  If  you  've  got  troo  astycratic  feelin's,  ye 
don't  'sociate  with  them  at 's  below  ye,  an'  ye  can't  an' 
yt-  won't.  If  ye  hev  n't  got  'em,  ye  can't  understand 
nothin'  about  'em;  so  what's  the  use  o'  talkiu'?' ' 

Mr.  MacAllau  saw  no  use  in  talking  further  upon 
this  topic,  not  feeling  quite  sure  of  the  spirit  of 
Lezer's  remarks,  or  of  the  application  intended.  He 
therefore  changed  the  subject.  "  Your  horses  aren't 
exactly  a  perfect  match,  are  they?"  he  said  mali- 
cioiiKly. 

"  That  all  depends  on  what  ye  mean  by  a  perfick 
match,  kunnle.  Ef  ye  mean  bein'  o'  the  same  size 
an'  color  ;ui'  build,  an'  all  that,  of  course  they  ain't 
no  match.  Hut  when  I  match  hosscs,  I  don't  look  on 


68  THE  nOCKAXOCK  STAGE. 

the  outered  appearance  but  on  the  innered  goodness, 
jest  as  I  would  ef  I  was  going  to  match  up  a  couple 
to  git  married.  The  man  an'  his  wife  don't  hev  ter  be 
of  the  same  size  an'  color  an'  build  in  order  to  make 
a  good  match,  do  they?  No  more  do  hosses.  What 
I  want  is  to  hev  'em  git  over  the  ground  together,  an' 
each  one  can-}7  his  end  o'  the  load.  Ef  they'll  do 
that,  the  more  unlike  they  be  the  better  I  like  'em. 
That's  where  my  lauskip  idees  help  me  ag'in. 
Natur'  don't  make  things  jest  alike ;  she  goes  in  fer 
variety  an'  tootum  samble." 

"I  give  it  up,"  said  MacAllan  laughing.  "They 
are  matched  perfectly." 

"  They  be,  for  a  fack,  kunnle,  an'  that  ain't  all, 
neither.  They  've  got  a  hist'ry,  them  hosses  has. 
Jest  look  at  'em  now  !  Did  ye  ever  see  sech  expres- 
sion ;  sech  individooality?" 

"  Never,"  said  MacAllan. 

"The  off  one  allus  'pears  ter  be  peakin'  up  over 
inter  footoority,  es  it  ware,  while  the  nigh  one  is 
meditatiu'  on  the  past." 

"  Very  striking  indeed,"  remarked  MacAllan. 

"  Oh,  he  's  seen  a  great  deal  of  life,  that  nigh  one 
has  !  Why,  I  've  knowccl  him  ter  git  ter  thinking  over 
his  past  life,  till  he  'd  stop  right  still  in  the  road." 

"I  believe  he  is  going  to  do  it  now,"  said  Mac- 
Allan. 


THE  I{nrh'.\\oCK  STAGE.  (i!t 

u  No,  no,  not  here.  This  ain't  one  o*  his  thinkin' 
spots.  They's  a  place  tip  here  beyond  Mayo  City 
where  he  might  stop,  like  enough.  It's  jnst  at  the 
bottom  of  a  long  hill"  — 

"  Ah,  I  understand!" 

"  .Test  at  the  bottom  of  a  hill.  A  lovely  place  it  is, 
too.  es  ever  I  see;  woods  on  one  side,  an'  fields  on 
t'other,  with  birds  u-singin'  and  bees  a-hnmmin'.  That 
air  scene  is  ginnally  too  much  fer  oh-  (irey.  It  seems 
ter  car'  him  right  back  to  his  youth,  ye  understand." 

"Oh,  yes;  1  understand  perfectly.  I've  seen 
these  meditative  horses  before.  We  have  them  in 
Maryland,"  replied  Mr.  Bi&0 Allan,  thinking  to  match 
Lexer's  humor. 

"Merryland!"  exclaimed  Lezer.  "Why,  bless 
you  !  that 's  where  the  breed  started  ;  that 's  where  ole 
(Irey  come  from.  Genoowine  Merry-land  stock.  Im- 
ported him  myself." 

"  And  of  what  breed  is  the  sorrel?" 

"  Wall,  I  hain't  never  been  able  ter  git  his  peddy- 
grcc  yit.  Hut  he  has  a  mighty  iuterestin'  hist'ry. 
He's  been  a  racer;  he 's  travvilled  with  a  circus  ;  he's 
run  on  a  Callyl'oruy  stage  ;  he's  worked  on  a  threshin' 
machine,  an'  so  forth  an'  so  on.  But  he  never  felt 
reely  ter  home,  ole  Carrots  never  did,  till  he  got  onter 
this  here  stage." 

Three  miles  from  Warnock  their  route  crossed  the 


VO  THE  HOCKANOCK  STAGE. 

Onono  River  where  they  found  the  village  of  Mayo, 
a  thrifty  and  rather  attractive  little  town,  commonly 
dignified  as  Mayo  City.  It  had  a  fine  water  power, 
utilized  by  mills  and  other  manufactories,  and  was  the 
center  of  a  rich  agricultural  region.  Here  there  were 
no  trains  to  wait  for;  but  the  mail  was  to  be  changed, 
and  various  Rockby  errands  were  to  be  done. 

Lezer  went  here  and  there,  in  and  out,  at  stores  and 
private  houses,  delivering  and  receiving  packages, 
letters,  and  verbal  messages  with  imperturbable  face 
and  slow,  heavy  walk,  squatting  a  little  at  every  step 
as  if  with  a  perpetual  inclination  to  sit  down,  and 
showing  the  sincerity  of  his  opinion  that  the  true 
gentleman  never  hurries.  The  passengers  were  hardly 
up  to  his  standard  of  deliberation,  however,  and  one 
of  them  at  least  was  in  a  state  of  most  ill-bred  impa- 
tience before  the  stage  left  Mayo  City.  At  the  mill  race 
they  stopped  again,  and  Lezer  brought  water  for  his 
horses  with  the  same  indifference  to  the  passage  of  time, 
going  and  coming  with  his  leaky  bucket,  which  never 
ceased  to  drizzle  its  contents  upon  his  rusty  boots. 

"•  Why  does  n't  the  railroad  run  to  Mayo?  "  growled 
Mr.  Mac-Allan,  as  they  once  more  moved  on. 

"What  should  the  railroad  want  ter  come  here 
fer?"  demanded  Lezer.  "I  hed n't  never  done  the 
railroad  no  harm.  What  should  they  want  ter  break 
up  my  business  fer?" 


THE  EOCKANOCK  STAGE.  71 

"  Oh,  I  see  !  "  answered  MacAllan. 

"  Jokin'  aside,  kunnle,"  said  the  driver  in  a 
different  tone,  "  I  don't  suppose  they  cared  a  red  cent 
about  me  nor  nobody  else.  They  come  to  these  here 
little  towns  and  says  they,  '  How  much  bonus  '11  you 
give  us  to  rim  through  ye?'  An'  Mayo,  says  she, 
'  Not  a  cent  ' ;  an'  Rockby,  says  she,  '  Not  a  cent.' 
They  knowed  'twas  better  for  the  road  to  come  there, 
and  calkerlated  that  they  could  git  it  without  a  bonus. 
But  that 's  where  they  did  n't  know  the  onregeuerate 
heart  of  a  copperation.  The  company  jest  went  and 
bit  its  own  nose  off  by  runniu'  way  round  out  o'  sight 
o'  civilization.  'Cause,  they  said,  ef  they  didn't  pun- 
ish a  town  for  sassin'  on  'em  that  way,  they  never 
could  git  no  bonus  from  no  town.  Mayo  whined  a 
good  deal  about  it  when  't  was  too  late,  but  Rockby 
folks  they  're  stuffy,  an'  they  allus  argied  'at  they  was 
better  off  without  the  road  than  they  would  'a'  be'n  ter 
mortgage  theirselves  for  more  'n  they  're  worth  ter 
raise  a  bonus." 

The  conversation  being  thus  brought  around  to 
Rockby,  and  a  truce  to  banter  and  quizzing  being 
tacitly  agreed  to  on  both  sides,  the  passenger  became 
docile  and  the  driver  reasonable  and  truthful.  Mac- 
Allan  found  Lezer  a  perfect  cyclopedia  of  local 
information,  and  drew  from  him  many  facts  about 
Rockby  and  its  inhabitants  which  he  carefully  treasured 


72  THE  ROCKAXOCK  STAGE. 

up  for  future  use.  At  the  same  time,  he  contrived  to 
throw  out  certain  hints  about  himself  and  his  plans, 
which,  though  not  altogether  ingenuous,  would  be 
likely,  he  thought,  in  the  hands  of  a  gossip  like  this 
r,  to  work  to  his  advantage.  He  represented  him- 
self as  a  capitalist  in  a  small  way,  looking  out  for  safe 
investments,  with  a  preference  for  improved  farms. 
He  consulted  Lezer  about  salable  property  in  that 
region  and  took  memoranda  of  the  facts  imparted, 
marking  some  of  them  "confidential"  at  Lexer's 
request. 

The  rest  of  the  journey  passed  without  incident. 
44  On  account  o'  bavin'  a  feller  Man  lander  behind  him," 
Lezer  supposed,  old  Grey  did  not  stop  to  think  at  the 
foot  of  the  hill  as  had  been  expected.  Other  hills 
were  climbed  and  others  still,  and  zigzag  roads  were 
followed  leading  the  stage  higher  and  higher,  the 
uncouth  nags  doing  their  work  so  well  that  they  really 
won  the  admiration  of  their  former  critic. 

At  length,  at  a  turn  of  the  road  on  the  brow  of  a 
lofty  bluff,  Lezer  drew  rein,  partly  to  "  breathe  the 
team,"  and  partly  to  give  his  passenger  a  pleasure. 
On  their  right  rose  a  perpendicular  angle  of  rock  with 
vines  and  tufts  of  foliage  creeping  from  its  seams,  and 
a  gnarled,  old  white  birch  leaning  aslant  from  its  edge 
forty  feet  above  them.  On  their  left  stood  a  giant  oak 
stretching  its  great  branches  overhead  till  they  touched 


THE  ROCKANOCK  STAGE.  73 

the  leaning  birch.  Through  this  picturesque  arch  of 
rock  and  foliage  the  road  swept  in  a  graceful  curve, 
disappearing  behind  the  angle  of  the  cliff.  Beyond  it 
the  bluffs  sloped  down  to  a  beautiful  valley  through 
which  wound  the  little  river  Ono  to  join  the  Ouono  a 
mile  below.  On  the  slopes  of  the  opposite  bluffs, 
creeping  up  terrace  above  terrace,  half  hidden  and 
half  revealed  amid  the  soft,  new  foliage  of  its  elms 
and  maples  appeared  the  village  of  Rockby. 

"  There,  kunnle,"  said  Lezer  with  genuine  pride, 
"  there's  the  puttyist  town  an'  the  puttyist  lanskip  in 
>nsin.  I've  drove  over  this  here  route  for  goin' 
on  nine  years,  an'  I  never  went  through  that  air  arch 
by  daylight,  no,  nor  moonlight  nuther,  without  stop- 
pin'  ter  look  at  the  pictur'  that 's  framed  into  it.  An' 
I  never  carried  a  passinger  that  bed  any  soul  in  him, 
but  what  he  give  in  'at  that  air  scene  was  one  o'  the 
most  thrillinist  and  soul-elevatiuist  'at  ever  he  sot 
eyes  on." 

"  Lezer,"  said  his  present  passenger  with  an  enthu- 
siasm as  genuine  as  his  own,  "  it  is  as  fair  a  picture, 
and  as  exquisitely  framed  as  any  that  Maryland  her- 
self can  show."  Presently  he  added  with  a  look  and 
tone  that  the  driver  could  not  understand,  "  I  feel  as 
if  I  had  no  business  to  go  and  be  a  part  of  it !  " 

"You!"  exclaimed  the  puzzled  Yankee.  "Why 
not?  Ye  hain't  got  the  smallpox,  hev  ye? " 


74  -  TEE  ROCKANOCK  STAGE. 

"  I  mean,"  answered  MacAllan,  quite  restored  to 
his  natural  mood,  "  that  an  ordinary  man  feels  as  if 
he  would  n't  be  an  ornament  to  such  a  beautiful 
scene." 

Lezer  was  perfectly  aware  of  the  other's  transition 
of  feeling,  and  remarked  with  his  usual  ambiguity, 
as  he  started  his  team,  "Shouldn't  wonder  but  what 
ye  might  be  right.  G'lang  ! " 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE    GREY    HORSE    IN    A    BROWN    STUDY. 

ON  the  Saturday  following  Mr.  MacAllan's  arrival, 
owing  to  the  unusually  thoughtful  mood  of  old 
*  Grey,  the  Rockanock  stage  did  not  reach  Warnock  till 
the  Chicago  train  had  passed  —  a  misfortune  of  very 
rare  occurrence.  Some  interruptions,  from  this  or 
other  causes,  were  always  expected,  and  an  allowance 
of  thirty  minutes  was  made  for  them.  But  this  morn- 
ing the  great  thinker  hud  required  no  less  than  four 
seasons  of  meditation,  each  one  more  protracted  than 
the  last. 

Yet  Lexer  lost  no  whit  of  patience  or  serenity  ;  and 
as  none  of  his  passengers  chanced  to  be  going  to  that 
train,  he  succeeded  in  preserving  their  equanimity  also. 
At  the  station  the  delay  of  the  stage  furnished  an  ex- 
citing topic  of  conversation,  and  subjected  the  driver, 
upon  his  arrival,  to  a  storm  of  jests  and  inquiries, 
which  he  enjoyed  intensely. 

The  usual  crowd  of  loiterers,  male  and  female,  were 
still  there,  having  been  entertained  by  two  special  ob- 
jects of  interest.  One  wus  a  freight  train,  puffing  to 
and  fro,  switching  out  a  couple  of  cars  of  local 
freight.  The  other  was  a  young  lady,  in  a  pretty 

75 


76  THE  ROCKAXOCK  STAGE. 

traveling  habit,  who  walked  leisurely  up  and  down  the 
platform,  apparently  without  suspecting  the  existence 
of  the  loafers  and  loaferesses  that  stared  at  her  with 
unanimous  admiration.  She  noticed  everything  else 
around  her.  She  stooped  to  pat  the  agent's  three- 
legged  dog,  limping  about  in  imitation  of  his  master ; 
she  spoke  to  the  dirty-faced  child,  presumably  of  the 
same  family,  and  gave  it  a  bonbon  from  her  reticule. 
She  watched  the  great  engine  at  its  work ;  she  looked 
pityingly  at  the  cattle  huddled  together  in  the  latticed 
cars.  She  admired  the  bluebirds  on  the  telegraph 
wires,  the  little  starveling  dandelion  at  the  foot  of  the 
pole,  and  the  plump  bumblebee  wading  among  its 
pt-tals ;  but  for  the  tableau-makers  she  had  not  a 
glance  or  a  thought.  Lezer  would  have  been  equally 
ignored  had  he  not  promptly  stepped  forward  and 
addressed  her. 

"Miss  DarlinY'  said  he,  lifting  his  rusty  old  hat  in 
awkward  fashion,  "I'm  real  sorry  to  'a'  kep'  ye 
\\aitin'  so  long,  but  hosses  will  be  bosses,  speshually 
old  ones." 

Lucy  was  startled  to  hear  her  own  name,  and  looked 
up  into  the  man's  face  with  a  glance  first  of  perplex- 
ity and  then  of  intelligence. 

"  Oh,  you  are  Lezer !  "  she  said. 

"  Wall,  I  never ! "  he  exclaimed.  "  You  're  jest  ez 
good  at  guessin'  ez  I  be ;  that 's  a  fack." 


THE  GREY  HORSE  AV  A  BRO  WN  STUD  Y.       77 

"I  didn't  guess,  I  knew,"  she  answered  archly; 
"  and  so  did  you." 

"That's  a  fack,  too." 

"How  soon  do  you  start  for  Rockby  ? "  Lucy  knew 
already,  but  wanted  to  hear  the  man  talk. 

"  Oh  —  'n  'our  —  there'bouts." 

"  Where  is  your  stage?" 

u  Right  'round  here,"  he  said  with  a  backward  jerk 
of  the  head. 

"I  have  heard  so  much  about  it" — began  Lucy, 
and  then  checked  herself,  fearing  that  he  would  infer 
that  she  had  heard  it  ridiculed,  and  would  take  her 
remark  amiss.  On  the  contrary,  he  was  greatly 
pleased. 

"  The  half  hezzent  be'n  told  ye,  Miss  Darlin',"  said 
he.  "  Come  an'  hev  a  look  at  it,  an'  pick  out  yer  seat 
'fore  t'other  train  gits  in.  They  's  allus  a  rush  for  the 
best  seats.  Sometimes  ther  iugaged  days  and  days 
ahead." 

"  Of  course,"  she  responded,  quite  as  sober  as  him- 
self. "It  is  the  same  way  with  the  palace  cars  and 
the  ocean  steamers.  I  hope  there  are  some  good  seats 
left  this  morning." 

"  Wall,  there  's  one  'at  I  consider  the  very  best  one 
o'  the  hull  lot." 

"  Then  I  will  engage  it  at  once." 

"  Mebbe  you  won't  want  it.     It 's  a  front  one." 


78  THE  ROCKAXOCK  STAGE. 

"That  is  exactly  the  one  I  do  want;  I  wonder  it 
has  not  been  taken  long  ago." 

"  Wall,  yer  see,  I  kinder  kep'  it  fer  you" 

"That  was  very  kind  of  you,  but  how  did  you 
know  I  was  coming?" 

"Oh,  I'm  a  gre't  guesser,  I  be.  I  wuz  born  in 
C'nettycut." 

With  that  they  came  to  the  stage,  Lucy  just  enough 
exhilarated  by  the  fresh  May  air  and  sunshine  to 
enjoy  the  driver's  humor,  and  take  no  offense  at  what 
in  a  different  man  would  have  been  unpardonable 
audacity.  She  had  prepared  herself  for  a  ludicrous 
sight,  and  had  resolved  not  to  reveal  her  amusement, 
come  what  would.  But  when  she  saw  the  absurd 
vehicle  with  its  furnishings  and  appointments,  and  its 
indescribable  horses,  she  broke  into  a  merry  laugh, 
of  which,  irresistible  as  it  was,  she  was  sincerely 
ashamed.  She  felt  sure  that  she  had  now  forfeited 
her  seat,  or  mude  it  an  uncomfortable  one  to  occupy. 

But  Lezer,  instead  of  resenting  her  mirth,  joined 
heartily  in  it,  both  from  the  power  of  its  contagion 
ami  because  he  saw  that  it  was  the  laugh  of  amuse- 
ment and  not  of  contempt. 

"  Wall,  there  it  is,"  said  he,  "  and  you  'd  better 
laugh  'an  cry  about  it." 

"  I  don't  see  anything  to  laugh  at,"  growled  a  voice 
from  within  the  stage  ;  and  an  irascible  old  gentle- 


THE  GREY  HORSE  IN  A  BRO  WX  STUDY.   79 

man  thrust  his  head  out  at  the  window.  "Why  don't 
you  drive  your  old  caboose  up  close  to  the  station, 
instead  of  freezing  your  horses  and  passengers  out 
here  in  this  raw  wind  ?  " 

Lucy  walked  away  as  if  she  saw  or  heard  nothing, 
but  inwardly  thankful  that  the  outside  seat  was 
reserved  for  her.  Lezer  "sized  tip"  the  old  gentle- 
man at  a  glance  and  resorted  to  his  usual  weapon  of 
defense. 

"  Kunnle,"  said  he  solemnly,  "  I  dassent  do  it. 
Them  hosses  is  sech  awful  cribbers.  Do  you  see  that 
deepo?"  he  asked,  pointing  to  certain  patches  of 
new  clapboards  and  shingles  on  the  nearer  end,  where 
the  ravages  of  an  incipient  fire  had  been  repaired. 

"What  of  it?" 

"  What  of  it!  Why,  them  air  hosses  wuz  hitched 
too  close  to  it  one  day,  and  they  et  that  end  clean  off ! 
I  felt  nigh  about  ready  to  kill  'em.  Cost  me  over 
'k-ven  dollars  in  cash,  it  did.  Jest  look  fer  yerself, 
scein'  's  believiu'.  There  's  the  very  sidiu'  and  shingles 
now.  T  wa'n't  good  for  the  hosses,  neither.  And 
what 'd  I  hitch  'em  there  for?  Ter  commerdate  an 
old  gentleman  'at  did  n't  like  the  draft.  Whudder 
yer  think  o'  that,  kunnle?  And  yit,  I'm  thet  tender- 
hearted 'at  I  'm  jest  goin'  to  hitch  'em  there  ag'in, 
though  I  'in  dead  sure  they  '11  go  and  eat  up  the 
deepo." 


80  THE  nOCKAXOCK  STAGE. 

"  Ob,  don't !  "  cried  the  passenger. 

"  I  tell  ye  I  will.  I  kin  stan'  a  few  costs  an' 
repairs,  but  grumblin'  V  cantaukerin'  I  can't  stan', 
I  positively  can't." 

An  hour  later  they  were  on  their  way  to  Rockby. 
Lucy  found  herself  on  the  coveted  seat,  and  chatting 
as  freely  with  Lezer  as  if  she  had  known  him  always. 
She  did  indeed  know  him  well  by  reputation,  having 
many  times  received  from  the  Ashleys  some  laughable 
account  of  his  eccentricities  and  of  the  career  of  his 
remarkable  stage.  When  she  was  about  to  start  for 
Rockby,  Helen  had  written,  giving  full  directions  for 
the  journey,  not  forgetting  the  final  passage  in  the 
Uockanock  stage.  "*Be  sure  and  get  a  seat  with  the 
driver,"  she  had  said;  '•  he  is  the  oddest,  awk- 
wardi-st,  Yaukee-est,  tenderest,  most  chivalrous,  most 
sensible  fellow  in  the  world,  and  so  large-hearted  that 
he  loves  everything  that  lives,  except  shams  and 
snobs.  Some  people  are  so  stupid  that  they  call  him 
the  prince  of  liars;  but  he  is  no  more  a  liar  than 
Cervantes,  or  Dean  Swift,  or  John  Bunyan,  or  Charles 
Dickens.  He  is  a  master  of  instructive  fiction.  He 
resorts  to  irony,  paradoxes,  fables,  parables,  allegories, 
and  stories  with  a  moral,  but  never  to  a  falsehood. 
The  doctor  calls  him  '  Our  Great  Moralist.'  " 

Lezer  on  his  part  had  acquired  considerable  in- 
formation concerning  Lucy.  Everybody  in  Rockby 


THE  GREY  HOR  SE  IN  A  BRO  if .V  STUDY.       81 

knew  that  Mrs.  Ashley  was  expecting  her  sister;  and 
everybody  who  was  willing  to  accept  Mrs.  Ashley's 
valuation  of  Lucy's  merits  looked  upon  her  arrival  as 
an  event  of  unusual  importance  to  the  social  life  of 
the  little  town.  The  graduate  of  a  celebrated  Eastern 
seminary  and  mistress  of  a  various!}7  estimated  fortune, 
connected  with  the  leading  physician  of  the  place,  and 
having  reputed  charms  of  person  and  of  manners,  she 
was  the  subject  of  much  conversation ;  and  what  was 
said  in  the  sewing  society  and  the  drawing  room  was 
retailed  and  ivviewi-d  at  the  grocery  and  the  shop. 
Lezer  was,  therefore,  as  well  prepared  as  Lucy  was 
for  ready  acquaintance,  and  was  more  delighted  to 
have  the  pretty  and  vivacious  girl  beside  him  than  she 
was  to  be  there. 

"But  you  startled  me  so,  speaking  my  name,"  she 
said  to  him.  "  How  could  you  know  it,  or  me?  " 

"Wall,  now,"  he  replied  with  a  sheepish  smile, 
and  looking  straight  at  Carrots'  tail,  "  ef  I  sh'd  tell 
ye  yer  wouldn't  b'l'eve  a  word  on't." 

"Indeed,  I  would  believe  anything  you  said;  in 
earnest,  I  mean/' 

"  Wall,  I  knowed  ye  by  yer  ears  !  —  thare !  " 

"  What  nonsense  !  "  she  cried  with  a  laugh,  while  the 
shapely  little  members  in  question  began  to  grow  rosy. 
"You  are  just  making  fun  of  me,  as  you  did  of 
the  old  gentleman  about  the  horses." 


82  THE  EOCKANOCK  STAGE. 

"I  told  ye  yer  wouldn't  bTeve  a  word  on't;  I 
knowed  ye  wouldn't." 

"  And  I  told  you  that  I  would  believe  what  you  said 
in  earnest." 

"  This  is  in  earnest." 

•"  Nonsense  !  I  say." 

"And  good  sense,  I  say.  Why,  bless  —  your  — 
soul  an'  body,  I  allus  rekkugnize  folks  by  the'r  ears. 
Ther'  a'n't  no  feecher  thet's  so  reliable  es  ears  for 
identifyin'  people  by.  The  'xpression  of  the'r  faces '11 
change.  Ye  can't  tell  nothin'  by  it.  Yours  hes 
changed,  forty  times  a  minute ;  but  the'r  ears  don't 
change,  an'  can't  change,  nohow  they  can  fix  it." 

"  There  *s  something  in  that,"  Lucy  admitted. 

"  An'  ther'  's  more  in  this  ;  folks  is  more  onlike  in 
the'r  ears  than  in  any  other  feecher.  Ye  kin  find  a 
hundred  noses  pootty  much  alike  where  ye  kin  two 
pairs  of  ears.  Do  ye  know  that?" 

"I  should  have  said  there  was  as  likely  to  be 
resemblance  in  one  respect  as  in  the  other." 

"It  maybe  likely  enuf  from  the  natur' of  things, 
but  it  a'n't  according  to  the  facks  ;  an'  ef  you  '11  make 
a  study  of  ears,  as  I  hev,  you'll  find  it  out.  Some 
folks'  ears  's  jest  holes  in  the'r  head,  with  a  little  kind 
o'  burr  round  'em,  sech  as  a  dull  bit  makes  borin'  inter 
wood.  Other  folksiz  stand  out  kind  o'  independent, 
and  seem  ter  be  carry  in'  the  head  atween  'em,  es  the 


THE  GRE  Y  HORSE  IN  A  BRO  W2f  STUDY.      83 

two  spies  did  the  bunch  o'  grapes  in  Scriptur'.  Some 
looks  es  ef  they  wuz  pinched  out  o'  red  putty  by  a 
boy's  fingers,  or  whittled  out  of  a  chip  with  a  rusty 
jack-knife.  Others  is  all  rounded  an'  filed  and  san'- 
papered  down,  as  smooth  an'  finished  es  new  jewelry. 
Some  is  jest  buddin'  out  o'  the  sides  o'  the  head,  like 
rhubub  sprouts  in  the  spring.  Others  grows  'way  out 
on  the  end  of  stalks,  like  horryzontle  calla  lilies. 
Some  is  pinned  back  es  close  es  a  double-breasted 
coat  collar.  Others  spread  out  like  a  pair  o'  great 
butterfly's  wings,  jest  ready  to  fly  away  with  the  little 
head  they  're  hitched  ter.  Some  is  thick  an'  some  is 
thin  ;  some  is  hard  an'  some  is  soft ;  some  is  long  an 
some  is  short ;  some  is  pale  an'  some  is  red  ;  some  is 
made  o'  meat  an"  some  o'  leather  ;  some  is  wrinkled 
an'  some  is  smooth  ;  some  has  a  flap  hanging  loose  at 
tlu.'  bottom,  an'  some  grows  on  clean  down  to  the  end  ; 
some  belongs  ter  the  head  you  find  'em  on,  an'  seems 
ter  fit  in  with  everything  else,  an'  some  has  ben 
got  by  swoppiu'  with  somebody  else.  An'  so  forth  an' 
so  on." 

"  But  how  did  you  know  what  kind  of  ears  I  had?" 
"Now  you  think  you've  got  me,  don't  ye?  Wall, 
I  did  n't  know  nothin'  about  your  ears ;  but  I  'd  seen 
Mis'  Ashley's  a  good  many  times,  an'  took  very  per- 
tickler  notice  of  'em.  They  a'n't  big  an'  they  a'n't 
small,  but  kind  o'  middlin'.  They  wuz  made  a-pup- 


84     .  THE  /••or/r.i.vor.'/r  STAGE. 

pose  for  her,  and  finished  right  up  ter  the  handle. 
And  you  've  jest  got  another  pair  out  o'  the  same  lot. 
You  don't  look  like  Mis'  Ashley  no  other  way.  You 
ha'n't  got  the  same  eyes  or  hair.  You  a'n't  complected 
alike.  Her  build  a'n't  the  same  as  yours.  She's  more 
thickset  'an  what  you  bo.  But  yer  ears  is  es  nigh  alike 
es  two  peas.  The  minute  I  see  them  ears,  sez  I  ter 
niy>c'lf,  'That's  Mis'  Ashley's  sister.'  I  knowed  ye 
wuz." 

"Do  sisters  always  have  ears  alike?" 

"Oh,  bless  yer,  no!  I  don't  say  I  knowed  afore- 
hand  you  'd  hev  them  kind  o'  ears.  I  say  'at  when  I 
see  you  did  hev  'em,  I  knowed  you  was  her  sister. 
See?" 

"Certainly.  You  did  not  reason  a  priori,  but  a 
posteriori" 

"  I  don't  know  nothing  about  yer  posts  and  yer 
priories,  .but  I  know  a  good  deal  about  ears.  And 
yit,"  continued  Lezer  thoughtfully,  u  I  did  get  awfully 
fooled  one  time." 

"  Is  it  possible?" 

"Oh,  jest  sold  out,  slick  an'  clean.  Ye  see  I  was 
deputy  sheriff,  an'  was  on  the  track  of  a  hoss  thief  up 
here'n  Taswax.  I'd  seen  the  feller  once,  an'  got  a 
good  look  at  his  ears  ;  and  I  callated  that  I  sh'd  know 
them  ears  in  Kamskatky  or  anywhere  else.  Small, 
kind  o'  yaller-brown  things,  they  wuz,  and  flattened 


THE  GREY  HOUSE  IN  A  SHOWN  STUDY.       85 

right  out  agiii  his  head,  like  a  piece  o'  cheese  'at  'a 
been  stepped  on.  Wall,  while  I  was  follerin'  up  his 
trail,  and  thought  I  had  him  dead  ter  rights,  I  come 
aerost  a  chap  about  es  oulike  him  es  black  an'  white. 
He  wore  a  suit  o'  minister's  clothes  instid  o'  t'other 
one's  blouse  an'  overalls  ;  but  that  did  n't  fool  me.  He 
lied  a  smooth  face  iustid  o'  t' other's  big  whiskers  an' 
mustash  ;  but  that  did  n't  fool  me.  He  walked  with  a 
cane,  an'  limped  a  little,  kind  o'  draggiu'  his  left  foot 
along,  while  t'  other  feller  wuz  es  lively  an'  springy  es 
a  grasshopper ;  but  that  did  n't  fool  me.  I  wuz  up  ter 
all  them  tricks,  an'  forty  dozen  other  like  'em.  What 
got  away  with  me  wuz  his  ears.  They  wuz  red  and 
thick,  and  stood  out  from  his  head  es  big  es  a  cata- 
mount's. Wall,  es  quick  es  I  see  them  ears,  I  never 
looked  for  no  other  marks  on  the  feller  at  all.  Ears 
wuz  sech  a  kind  o'  hobby  with  me,  an'  I  wuz  thet  con- 
ceited about  'em,  'at  I  jest  took  down  the  hull  thing, 
an'  sez  I,  '  Reverend,  ef  yer  goin'  Taswax  way,  I  '11 
give  yer  a  lift.'  We  wuz  right  at  the  forks  o'  the  road, 
this  side  o'  Gallus  Swamp. 

"  '  Which  road  are  ye  goin'  ter  take?'  sez  he. 

44 '  Gallus  Swamp  road,'  sez  I.  '  It 's  more  'n  a  mile 
shorter 'n  t'other.' 

"  l  My  brother,'  sez  he  in  a  kind  o'  whinin',  trembliu' 
tone  ;  '  my  beloved  brother,'  sez  he,  more  an'  more 
affected  every  word  he  said,  till  I  thought,  my  soul,  he 


86  THE  ROCKANOCK   STAGE. 

wuz  jest  goin'  to  bust  out  cryin',  '  don't,  don't  take  the 
(Julius  Swamp  road  ! '  sez  he. 

"'Yer  needn't  cry  about  it,'  sez  I;  for  it  allus 
does  make  me  mad,  thet  kind  o'  whinin'  does.  I  never 
c'd  see  what  a  minister  wants  to  make  a  cry-baby  of 
himself  fer.  Ef  he  's  got  anything  ter  say,  let  him 
say  it  out  like  a  man,  an'  not  snivel  and  sob  over 
nothin'.  "\Vall,  I  spoke  up  kind  o'  sharp  to  him,  an' 
sez  I,  'Yer  needn't  "brother"  me,  an'  yer  needn't 
give  me  no  advice.  Ef  ye  don't  want  ter  ride,  say  so. 
I'm  bound  for  Gallus  Swamp  anyhow.' 

"'You  may  jeer  at  me  an'  my  sacred  calling,'  sez 
he,  'but'  — 

"  '  Sacred  humbug  ! '  sez  I. 

"  '  But  I  shall  perform  my  duty,'  sez  he. 

"'What's  that?'  sez  I;  'the  dooty  of  a  weepin' 
wilier  is  to  wave  over  a  toomb-stun,  but  I  never  heerd 
what  a  weepin'  elder  wuz  good  fer.' 

"  '  Scoff  on,'  sez  he,  '  I  am  used  to  the  revilings  of 
the  wicked.  But  I  will  still  warn  them  of  their  perils. 
In  the  Gallus  Swamp  a  villain  waits  to  slay  thee.' 

"'Oho!'  sez  I.  prickiu'  up  my  ears;  'I'm  out 
a-huntiu'  villains  this  morniu'.  It's  mightv  good  of 
him  to  wait  fer  me.' 

"  '  Ah,  you  little  know  how  desperate  a  man  he  is,' 
sez  he. 

" '  "Whudder  you  know  about  him?'  sez  I. 


THE  GREY  HORSE  IX  A  BR  0  WN  STUDY.   87 

"'Just  before  you  overtook  me,'  sez  he,  'a  man 
passed  me,  riding  a  fine  sorrel  horse,  and  leadin' 
another.  He  had  a  villanous-looking  red  beard,  and 
wore  a  butternut-colored  blouse  and  overalls.  He  in- 
quired the  way  to  Gallus  Swamp,  and  asked  if  I  had 
seen  anything  of  a  tall,  long-nosed  man,  driving  a 
roan  horse  ? ' 

"I  didn't  wait  for  another  word.  'Wall,  elder,' 
sez  I,  'you  be  good  for  somethin',  arter  all.  Wuz  he 
ridin'  fast?' 

"  'Oh,  no,  very  slow  indeed,'  sez  the  elder.  'One 
horse  was  badly  lamed  up  ;  he  had  n't  more  than  got 
out  of  sight  when  you  came  up.' 

"  '  Good  enough,'  sez  I,  givin'  the  roan  a  cut  with 
the  whip. 

"  '  Oh,  don't  go  ! '  sez  he,  claspin'  his  han's  this  way  ; 
but  the  roan  jumped  by  him,  and  we  wuz  out  o'  sight 
in  no  time. 

"  Wall,  you  kin  guess  the  rest,  es  well  es  ef  I  told 
ye.  He  wa'u't  no  elder  at  all,  but  the  thief  himself. 
He  had  found  out  somehow  that  I  was  arter  him,  an* 
slipped  his  bosses  into  a  clump  o'  brush.  He  might  'a' 
hid  himself,  but  he  wuz  a  great  joker  and  wanted  the 
fun  o'  fooliu'  me." 

"  But  how  did  he  get  his  big  ears?  "  askc-d  Lucy. 

"  That's  the  very  p'iut  o'  the  joke,"  laughed  Lezer. 
"  He  knowed  'at  ears  was  my  s^shallt^  an  'at  his 


88  THE  EOCKANOCK  STAGE. 

wuz  sure  to  give  bhn  away ;  so  he  rubbed  'em  with 
pi/ni  ivy  till  they  swelled  up  two  or  three  times  the 
nat'ral  size.  I  never  was  so  beat  in  my  life,  never. 
While  I  was  explorin'  Gallus  Swamp  from  eend  to 
eend,  and  all  the  country  on  bey  end,  that  raskel  went 
back,  got  his  hosses,  and  crossed  the  State  line.  He 
even  hed  the  imperdence  to  write  me  a  letter,  askin'  ef 
I  found  the  man  I  was  arter  in  the  swamp,  an'  ef  I'd 
diskivered  any  use  for  weepin'  elders.  He  forgot  ter 
give  his  postoffice  address,  so  I  could  n't  answer  the 
letter.  But  it  wuz  a  lesson  to  me.  Jest  humbled  my 
pride  an'  showed  me  my  weakness,  that  did,  better 'n 
anything  'at  ever  happened  to  me.  I  reelly  felt  sorry 
when  I  heerd  'at  the  poor  feller  wuz  hung." 

"Why,  is  horse  stealing  a  capital  offense?"  asked 
Lucy  in  surprise. 

u  Oh,  no  !  The  charge  agin  him  was  murder.  He 
wa'n't  no  more  guilty  'n  I  be  ;  but  the  jury  knowed  he 
was  a  hoss  thief,  an'  two  or  three  on  'em  hed  lost 
stock  by  him.  Ef  they  convicted  him  o'  that,  he  'd 
only  be  kep'  away  from  it  fer  a  while  and  then  be 
turned  loose  agin.  So  they  jest  brought  him  in  guilty 
o'  murder  and  hod  him  hung.  It  wa'n't  exactly  law  ; 
but  it  saved  a  good  deal  o'  trouble,  an'  kep  him  from 
heapin'  up  more  sin  agin  himself." 

44  Why,  it  is  perfectly  shocking  !  "  exclaimed  Lucy. 

'•  Yis,  it  is.     He  was  awfully  shocked  by  it  himself. 


THE  ORE  Y  HORSE  IN  A  BRO  WX  STUD  T.   89 

So  wuz  his  friends.  But  that  same  jury  went  an'  let 
two  reel  murderers  go.  So  ye  see  their  evridge 
wa'n't  none  too  high  ;  an'  in  this  world  ef  ye  git  yer 
evridges  summuz  near  right  ye  do  putty  well." 

At  this  moment  the  conversation  was  suddenly  inter- 
rupted by  old  Grey.  They  had  reached  one  of  the 
places  always  critical  with  him  on  the  return  route, 
and  he  dropped  at  once  into  motionless  meditation. 
Carrots  feigned  to  object,  and  gave  a  spiritless  jerk 
or  two  forward,  as  if  to  say,  "  You  see  I  am  willing 
to  go  on,  but  can't  do  it,"  and  then  quietly  accepted 
tin-  situation.  Lezer  accepted  it  with  equal  readiness. 

"Beats  all,"  said  he,  "  how  uatteral  scenery  works 
on  that  boss's  mind." 

••  Why  does  he  stop  here?  "  asked  Lucy  innocently. 

"  You  just  look  an'  listen  a  minute,  an'  you  '11  know. 
Do  ye  hear  that  little  brook  a-gurglin'  an'  tiuklin' 
amongst  the  stones  ?  Do  ye  hear  them  brown  thrash- 
ers an'  chewiuks  an'  chickadees  singin'?  Do  ye  hear 
them  bumblebees  a-hummin'?  Do  ye  hear  thet  kind  o' 
breathiu'  an'  sh-sh-wish-sh-in'  all  through  an'  through 
the  woods,  round  us  an'  overhead  an'  everywhere?  Do 
ye  see  all  that  bran'-uew  greenness  on  the  ground,  an' 
in  amongst  the  bushes,  au'  over  the  trees,  an'  them 
little  mouse-ears,  an'  dandylions,  and  blue  vi'lets,  an' 
win'flowers,  an'  dutchman's-britches,  an'  pussy-willers, 
an'  alder  tops?  It's  them  things,  along  with  the 


90  THE  ROCKANOCK  STAGE. 

grandeur  o'  the  hill  risin'  right  up  afore  him,  that 
works  on  old  Grey's  feelin's  so  'at  he  can't  do  nothin' 
but  jest  stan'  still  an'  love  it.  He 's  afrebuke  to  me, 
thet  boss  is,  every  day  I  live.  It's  so  onfeelin'  to 
hurry  right  through  such  a  lanskip  es  this  es,  es  ef  ye 
bed  n't  no  eyes  nor  ears  nor  soul  nor  nothin'." 

"  That  is  certainly  a  philosophical  way  to  take  it," 
said  Lucy,  who  knew  something  about  horses  and  the 
way  in  which  some  of  them  are  liable  to  be  overcome 
by  the  grandeur  of  a  hill. 

If  Lezer  suspected  her  of  putting  a  more  prosaic 
construction  upon  old  Grey's  conduct,  he  gave  no 
sign  of  it.  "Miss  Darlin',"  said  he  in  the  tone  of 
genuine  feeling,  "  I  do  think  spring's  jest  the  best  an' 
soul-inthuzinest  time  o'  year  there  is,  don't  you  ?  " 

"  On  many  accounts,  yes,"  she  replied,  wondering 
at  the  changed  tone  and  look  of  the  awkward  fellow. 
"  I  never  enjoy  any  other  foliage  so  much  as  I  do  the 
new  foliage  of  spring." 

"  There ! "  exclaimed  Lezer  with  gratification, 
"thet's  jest  what  I  say.  I  sez  to  myself  ag'in  an' 
ag'in  'long  in  May,  '  You  take  a  good  long  look  at  that 
green  grass,'  sez  I,  '  fer  ye  won't  see  no  more  sech 
bright,  fresh  green  es  that  fer  a  hull  year.'" 

"  Yes,  but  the  leaf  colors  are  the  most  wonderful. 
Just  see  them  all  around  us,  the  olives,  the  browns, 
the  buffs,  the  maroons,  the  bronze,  the  gold,  the  deli- 


THE  GEE  Y  HORSE  IN  A  PRO  WN  STUDY.       91 

cate  shading,  the  blending  and  overlapping  of  tints, 
the  feathery  tufts  and  sprays,  and  the  exquisite  sun- 
light effects  upon  the  masses  of  foliage.  There  is 
nothing  in  autumn  colors  to  compare  with  it  for  vari- 
ety and  delicacy." 

"  Now  you  talk  !  "  said  Lezer,  making  an  emphatic 
gesture  with  his  whip.  "  I  've  thought  o'  that  a  thou- 
sand million  times,  but  I  didn't  s'pose  anybody  else 
ever  did.  I  never  heerd  nobody  speak  of  it  afore. 
All  the  spring  po'try  'at  ever  I  read,  —  an'  I've  read 
an  awful  lot  on  't,  too, —  it  all  goes  on  about  the  green 
leaves,  es  ef  ther  wa'n't  none  o'  them  other  colors  't 
you  jest  called  off,  an'  forty  more  to  boot.  An'  some 
on  'em  a'n't  faded  an'  washed-out  colors,  neither,  no 
more  'n  fall  leaves  be.  Look  at  them  air  sprouts 
round  that  maple  stump.  I'll  bet  ye  the  tree  itself 
hed  n't  no  gayer  twigs  on  it  last  fall  'n  them  young 
sprouts  is  now.  An'  them  oak  suckers,  too, — 'd  ye 
ever  see  sech  red  in  September?" 

"Oh,  no!  How  brilliant  they  are!  I  must  have 
some  of  them  ;  "  and  she  gathered  herself  for  a  spring. 

"You  hold  on;  I'll  git  'em  for  ye.  Wall,  my 
stars  !  ef  ye  ain't  out  a'ready  !  Light  like  a  bird,  you 
do,  for  a  fack." 

He  followed  clumsily  and  rendered  good  service 
with  his  jack-knife  in  cutting  the  gay  sprouts  for  her. 

14  Jest  see  'em  ! "  said  he.     "  Them  's  autumn  leaves 


92  THE  ROCKANOCK  STAGE. 

right  over  ag'in.  I  believe  the  little  things  is  dressed 
up  iu  the  last  year's  cloze  o'  the  old  tree.  Mighty 
economical  family,  ain't  it?" 

"Fie,  fie!  "  cried  Lucy.  "Do  you  call  these 
secondhand  costumes?  Don't  you  see  the  new  spring 
styles?  the  fine  silky  textures ?  the  lacelike  forms?  the 
folds  and  ruffles  and  deep  indentations  ?  No  autumn 
leaf  was  ever  like  that." 

"  No,  nor  summer  leaf,  neither,"  said  Lezer,  hold- 
ing a  bunch  of  the  'gay  foliage  tenderly  in  his  great 
hands.  "  Pooty  soon  these  here  creases  and  wrinkles 
'11  begin  to  smooth  out  an'  smooth  out,  till  bimeby  the 
great,  broad,  dark  green  leaves  '11  look  es  ef  they  wuz 
cut  out  o'  shiny  green  luther.  Then  ag'in  they  git 
tired  o'  green,  an'  they  go  an'  dye  themselves  red  an' 
yeller,  an'  so  forth  an'  so  on." 

•  •  No,  no !  that  spoils  it  all.   I  hate  dyed-over  things  ! " 

"Ye  wouldn't  ef  they  was  handsomer  arter  they 
was  dyed  'n  they  was  afore,  would  ye?  An'  didn't 
smell  o'  dyestuff  an'  all  that?" 

"  I  like  new  things  best,"  persisted  Lucy. 

"  What  you  call  new  is  really  dyed  over,  though, 
a'n't  it?  Them  ribbons,  an'  that  pooty  plaid  dress, 
an'  that  mantilly,  an'  them  brown  gloves  —  they  a'n't 
natteral  color,  be  they  ?  I  never  see  no  silkworm  'at 
ud  spin  red  an'  black  threads.  I  never  see  no  sheep 
'at  hed  blue  wool," 


THE  (i HE  r  HOUSE  7iV  A  BR 0  WX  STUD  Y.   93 

"Of  course  not !  What  I  object  to  is  the  trying  to 
make  a  thing  look  new  when  it  is  old." 

"  Wa-a-a-11 —  I  dunno.  I  b'lieve  I'd  ruther  see 
things  look  well  as  they  ken,  anyway.  I  've  be'n 
thinkin'  o'  gittin  these  cloze  dyed  over ; "  and  he 
surveyed  his  faded  suit  dubiously,  while  Lucy  cast 
about  for  a  way  to  change  the  subject,  lest  she  should 
laugh  at  the  ludicrous  suggestion.  Lezer  supplied  the 
required  change  in  a  manner  quite  unexpected. 

"Be  you  religious?"  he  asked,  searching  her  face 
with  his  gray  eyes. 

Surprise,  embarrassment,  the  strangeness  of  the 
question,  the  tone  in  which  it  was  put,  and  something 
which  was  touched  by  it  in -the  soul  of  the  girl  herself, 
sent- the  blood  to  her  face. 

"I  —  am  —  afraid  —  not  —  very,"  she  said  slowly. 

"  Oh,  but  ye  be  !  "  said  he.  "I  know  ye  be.  You 
could  n't  help  likin'  anybody  'at  had  made  them  ere 
things  an'  gi'n  'em  to  ye  ;  an'  He  could  n't  help  likiii' 
you,  I  know.  I  a'n't  no  church  member  myself,  but  I 
b'lieve  a  good  many  things  all  the  same.  Do  you 
s'pose  'at  any  man  c'd  stan'  right  here  five  minutes, 
with  his  eyes  an'  ears  open,  an'  not  think  about  Him?  " 

"  Yes,  I  do,"  answered  Lucy. 

' '  Do  you  s'pose  a  woman  could  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Wall,  then  they  ha'n't  got  no  heart !  " 


CHAPTER    VII. 

MR.      MACW1IISKERS. 

I  THINK  I  will  walk  up  the  hill,"  said  Lucy.  "  It 
will  be  a  rest  to  me  and  a  relief  to  old  Grey. 
Perhaps  a  lightening  of  the  load  will  shorten  his 
reverie." 

"  You  '11  find  some  shad-blows  'bout  halfway  up," 
said  Lezer,  pointing  with  his  whip.  "  An'  I  don't 
think  you  '11  hev  to  wait  long  fer  us.  They  's  sartin 
signs  'at  ruther  indercate  a  change.  We  may  be  ter 
the  top  afore  you  be,  ferzino." 

Lucy  slowly  climbed  the  hill,  gathering  some  sprays 
of  the  white  shad  bush  blossoms  as  she  went.  At  the 
top  she  caught  a  glimpse,  through  an  intervening 
screen  of  hazels,  of  a  little  white  farmhouse  and  two 
men  talking  at  the  gate.  One  was  apparently  the 
fanner  himself —  an  oldish  man,  with  a  torn  straw  hat 
uiid  sleeves  rolled  up,  leaning  sidewise  against  the 
gate-post  and  listening  dejectedly  to  what  the  other 
was  saying.  The  speaker  was  young,  erect,  well 
dressed,  and,  as  he  talked,  stroked  the  long,  black 
beard  that  came  to  his  very  waist. 

"What,     that     fellow    here?"     exclaimed     Lucy. 

94 


ME.   MACWHISKERS.  95 

"  How  very  odd!  And  he  seems  to  be  pronouncing 
sentence  of  death  on  the  poor  farmer." 

At  this  moment  a  commotion  at  the  foot  of  the  hill 
caused  her  to  turn  about.  A  laughable  sight  presented 
it^L-lf.  All  of  the  passengers  had  alighted  from  the 
stage  and  were  grouped  about  it  in  various  positions. 
Some  were  grasping  the  wheels  ;  some  were  pushing 
behind.  The  irascible  old  gentleman  had  the  sorrel 
horse  by  the  bit,  while  Lezer  grasped  the  bridle  of 
old  Grey. 

"Now,  all  together!"  Lezer  shouted.  "One  — 
two  —  three  —  go!"  He  tugged;  the  old  gentleman 
tugged ;  the  wheels  were  turned  by  main  force ;  the 
coach  was  pushed  bodily  along.  .  The  horses  settled 
back  a  moment,  and  then  sprang  forward  and  came 
snorting  and  scrambling  up  the  hill,  knocking  the  old 
gentleman  aside,  and  leaving  the  pushers  and  wheel- 
turners  far  behind.  Lezer  alone,  with  his  long  strides, 
at  a  kind  of  leaping  gate,  kept  his  hold,  and  brought 
the  panting  horses  to  a  halt  at  the  top  of  the  hill, 
where  Lucy  stood  laughing. 

"  I  told  ye  I  thought  mebbe  there  'd  be  a  change 
afore  long,"  said  he. 

One  by  one  the  passengers  came  up  and  resumed 
their  seats  in  various  states  of  mind,  merry  and 
otherwise. 

"Are  the  inside  seats  all  full?"  asked  Lucy. 


96  THE  KOCKAXOCK  STAGE. 

"  Always  room  for  one  more,"  said  some  retailer  of 
the  ancient  omnibus  proverb. 

"I  b'l've  there  is  jest  room  for  one  more,  for  a 
fack,"  said  Lezer.  "  "NVnz  you  thiukin'  o'  makin'  a 
change,  Miss  Darliu'?" 

"  I  think  I  will,  since  there  is  room,"  she  said. 

Lezer  looked  at  her  to  see  if  she  had  taken  offense 
at  his  last  words  at  the  foot  of  the  hill,  and  concluded 
that  she  had  not. 

"  All  right,"  he  said  ;  "  you  '11  find  it  more  comf'table 
fer  a  change,  ferzino  ; "  adding,  rather  to  himself  than 
to  her,  "I'll  take  Mr.  Mac  Whiskers  up  along  with 
me." 

"Mr.  MacWho?  "  said  the  old  gentleman. 

"Oh,  a  passenger  I  brung  down  to  Diah  Green's 
this  morniu'.  I  guess  he  '11  think  it's  a  long  time  ter 
wait."  A  little  gleam  in  Lucy's  eye,  although  she 
was  not  looking  at  him,  attracted  his  attention.  As 
he  turned  to  take  his  own  seat  he  saw  Mr.  MacAllan, 
who  had  heard  the  noise  of  the  creaking  stage  as  it 
ascended  the  hill,  and  had  walked  down  to  meet  it. 
By  some  unexplaiuable  use  of  his  guessing  faculty, 
Lezer  connected  the  advent  of  the  whiskers  with 
Lucy's  change  of  seats. 

"  Wall,  here  we  be  at  last,  and  here  you  be, 
kunnle,"  said  he.  "  Guess  you  '11  hev  ter  set  up  here 
with  me  a  spell ;  it's  all  full  inside." 


9? 


I\Ir.  MacAllnn  looked  an  annoyance  which  he  did 
not  express,  but  climbed  to  the  place  whose  perils  he 
had  already  experienced.  By  another  effort  of  his 
guessing  faculty  Lezer  connected  this  annoyance  with 
the  passenger  who  had  just  relinquished  the  place. 
Both  guesses  were  right.  Mr.  Mac  Allan,  partly 
through  information  received  from  Mr.  Pack,  and 
partly*through  common  report  at  Rockby,  had  learned 
that  Miss  Darling  was  expected  on  that  day,  and  of 
course  by  the  Rockanock  stage.  It  seemed  to  him  a 
happy  idea  to  be,  by  apparent  accident,  a  passenger 
in  the  same  stage.  She  had  no  knowledge  of  his 
presence  in  Rockby,  and  no  suspicion  that  he  knew  of 
her  coming.  The  meeting  would  be  seemingly  acci- 
dental. Their  previous  introduction  would  warrant 
him  in  speaking  ;  each  would  be  surprised  to  see  the 
other;  the  circumstances  and  incidents  of  a  stage 
ride  would  compel  conversation,  and  thus  he  would 
make  his  first  impression,  lay  the  foundation  for 
immediate  acquaintance,  ami  actually  escort  her  into 
Rockby.  He  had  a  commission  to  execute  for  Mr. 
Krauntx,  relating  to  a  mortgage  on  Mr.  Green's  farm. 
He  would  make  this  business  the  pretext  for  going  and 
coming  on  the  stage,  and  trust  to  his  own  address  to 
carry  out  the  pleasant  program. 

But  an  unpleasant  surprise!  brought  his  little  plan  to 
grief.  He  had  arrived  soon  enough  to  see  the  young 


98  THE  ROCKANOCK  STAGE. 

woman  get  into  the  stage,  and  be  himself  shut  out 
without  so  much  as  a  recognition.  Had  he  known 
that  she  entered  the  stage  to  avoid  the  necessity  of 
recognizing  him,  that  she  was  annoyed  at  seeing  him, 
that  the  driver  guessed  as  much,  and  even  guessed 
that  the  visit  to  Farmer  Green  was  for  the  sake  of  this 
ride  and  not  the  ride  for  the  sake  of  the  business,  he 
would  have  been  still  more  unpleasantly  surprised, 
which  was  needless.  He  soon  recovered  his  equanim- 
ity, however,  and  began  a  very  amiable  conversation 
with  his  companion.  He  had  been  in  Rockby  long 
enough  to  know  that  the  driver  of  the  Rockanock 
stage  was  a  man  of  consequence,  and  one  whom,  for 
many  reasons,  he  would  do  well  to  conciliate.  Besides, 
he  thought  it  possible  that  fragments  of  the  conversa- 
tion might  reach  the  ears  that  he  most  wished  to  please. 

"  You  have  a  fine  patronage,  Mr.  Martin,"  he  said 
in  his  blandest  tone. 

"  Pooty  middlin'  fair,"  admitted  the  driver. 

"The  Rockanock  stage  is  what  I  call  a  popular 
institution." 

u  Wall,  ther'  haVt  no  other  way  fer  folks  to  git 
frum  Warnock  ter  Rockby,  unless  they  foot  it  or  hes 
hosses  o'  the'r  own." 

"By  the  way,  what  a  lovely  place  that  Rockby  is! 
I  've  been  looking  for  years  for  just  such  a  town,  com- 
bining neatness,  thrift,  good  order,  pleasant  society, 


99 


healthfuluess,  picturesque  surroundings  —  almost  every 
desirable  quality." 

"  Ef  I  'd  V  knowed  how  rauch  ye  wanted  ter  come, 
I  'd  sent  ye  an  invitation." 

"Thanks;  but  as  the  Irishman  said  when  his  com- 
panion apologized  for  not  telling  him  of  the  hole  into 
which  he  had  fallen,  '  I  found  it  meself.'  " 

"  Stoppin'  at  Deacon  Wobberton's,  a'n't  ye?" 

"Yes;  the  nicest  people  in  the  world,  those  Wau- 
bertons.  I  was  homesick  enough  at  the  hotel,  but  now 
I  am  in  clover." 

"Pretty  good  cook,  Miss  Wobberton  is.  I  use  ter 
live  there  when  I  wuz  a  boy." 

u  Oh,  well,  then  you  know  them?" 

"  Bet  yer  life  !  Ther'  wa'u't  no  skercity  o'  me 
round  there  in  them  days.  'T  was  '  Lezer  here,'  an' 
'  Lezer  there,'  '  Lezer  this,'  an'  *  Lezer  that,'  seven 
days  in  the  week." 

"  Your  full  name  is  Eliezer,  I  suppose?  " 

"  Not  much.     Tiglath  Pilezer  my  name  is." 

"Indeed!     That  's  a  name  I  never  heard  before." 

"  A'n't  rauch  acquainted  with  the  Bible,  be  yer,  nor 
anci-.-nt  hist'ry  ?" 

"  Oh,  I  did  n't  mean  that  the  name  was  new  to  me, 
but  that,  as  a  modern  name  it  is  new.  Of  course  I 
know  its  historical  use." 

"AVttll,  then  you're  jest  the  man  I  wan*  ter   see. 


100  THE  J10CKAXOCK  STAGE. 

They  's  one  or  two  queschins  about  old  Tiglatb  'at  I 
wan'  ter  Lev  answered,  an'  I  've  be'n  a-waitin'  to  run 
acrost  some  reel  tiptop  scholar  't  c'u'd  give  me  jest 
the  right  on  't.  Wuz  Tiglath  Pilezer  king  o'  Jerrycho, 
or  only  tetrarch  o'  Galilee  ?  " 

A  moment's  silence  followed,  during  which  Lezer 
thought  he  heard  something  like  a  suppressed  titter  on 
the  other  side  of  the  curtain  behind  him.  Mr.  Mac- 
Allan  was  too  much  absorbed  in  the  question  to  notice 
the  sound. 

' '  He  was  —  why,  he  —  was  —  the  —  the  —  tetrarch 
of  Galilee,  wasn't  he?" 

"  Wall,  some  thinks  he  wuz,  an'  some  thinks  not. 
I  thought  raebby  you  might  know.  Yer  see  I  nattrelly 
feel  drawd  toward  Tiglath  on  account  o'  my  being 
named  arter  him.  It's  a  dreffle  good  name,  don't  yer 
think?" 

"  Excellent." 

"Kinder  noble  an'  high  soundin',  a'n't  it?" 

"Very." 

"I  allus  felt  ter  thank  my  folks  fer  givin'  me  sech 
a  name.  Some  folks  ha'n't  no  sense  about  namin' 
tlio'r  childrun.  They  take  edvantige  of  a  little  help- 
liss  baby,  'at  can't  say  nothiu'  agin  it,  to  go  an'  tack 
onto  him  some  outlandish  name  or  other,  'at  he  's  got 
ter  be  ashamed  on  all  his  life.  I  kn'owed  a  feller  't 
wuz  named  Antarctic  Aldebai  an  Stripps,  an'  his  brother 


MR.    MAr  WHISKERS.  101 


wuz  Ilypothenuse  Syllogism  Stripps,  an'  his  sister  wuz 
Alcauthiany  t'rambambery  Stripps.  Jest  tbiuk  on  't  ! 
But  my  folks  vva'n't  no  such  idgeots.  I  heerd  my 
mother  say  'at  she  hunted  the  hull  Bible  through  fer 
a  name  fer  me,  an'  father,  he  hunted  through  Rollins' 
Ancient  History  ;  an'  whud  der  you  think?  they  both 
hit  on  the  same  name  —  Tiglath  Pilezer.  They  mostly 
calls  me  Lexer  or  Leze  ;  but  when  you  sound  out  the 
hull  name,  Tiglath  1'ilezer,  it  jest  seems  es  ef  ye  c'd 
hear  the  ole  king  himself  tramping  by  es  big  es  life." 

••  Very  sonorous,  certainly." 

"  You  think  Tiglath  was  a  moral  man.  don't  ye?" 

"  Not  a  doubt  of  it." 

"  Yon  justify  him  in  haugiu'  Adouibezek?" 

41  Under  the  circumstances,  yes." 

'•  Wall,  they  's  jest  one  other  man  'at  I  'd  ruther  be 
named  arter  'n  Tiglath,  an'  thet  's  Abs'lom." 

'k  Why  do  you  prefer  him?  " 

"Oh,  he  wuz  sech  a  han'som'  man,  fer  one  thing. 
What  a  head  o'  hair  he  lied  on  him  !  Think  o'  cuttin' 
off  two  hundred  shekels  o'  hair  a  year.  A  shekel's 
the  same  es  a  pound,  a'n't  it?" 

"•  Yes;  1  believe  so  —  about  that." 

'•Two  hundredweight  a  year!  That's  splendid. 
I  allus  do  like  a  big  crop  o'  hair  or  whiskers.  Now 
you  rve  hed  most  oncommon  luck  with  whiskers, 
kunnle.  Some  folks  thinks  't  a'n't  nothin'  ter  raise 


102  THE  BOCK  AN  OCR  STAGE. 

sech  a  beard  as  that ;  but  let  'em  try  it,  I  say,  let  'em 
try  it !  "  and  he  brought  down  his  whip  with  a  fierce 
energy,  as  if  the  skepticism  referred  to  was  of  the 
most  unreasonable  character. 

Mr.  MacAllan  found  this  subject  the  most  embar- 
rassing one  yet  handled  by  this  merciless  gossip.  He 
was  positively  vexed  and  found  it  diHicult  not  to  show 
it.  His  beard  was  an  object  of  profound  regard  and 
care.  He  was  fond  of  it  and  proud  of  it.  But  he 
resented  the  impudence  of  this  fellow  in  taking  such 
liberties  with  an  object  so  sacred.  What  if  fragments 
of  this  conversation  should  reach  the  ears  before  al- 
luded to?  But  Lezer  felt  no  embarrassment  on  the 
subject,  and  showed  no  intention  of  abandoning  it. 

"  I  tell  you  what  it  is,  kunnle,"  said  he,  "  to  raise 
sech  a  beard  es  that  a  feller  's  got  to  give  his  mind  to 
it.  But  if  he  's  willin'  ter  give  his  mind  to  it  he  kin 
do  it.  I  've  done  it  myself ;  I  growed  a  beard  clean 
down  ter  the  tops  o'  my  boots.  But  I  could  n't  afford 
it  nohow  ;  took  too  much  time.  I  wuz  a  workiu'man 
an'  I  could  n't  set  up  nights  a-takin'  care  on  't,  and 
spend  an  hour  in  the  morniu'  dressin'  on 't,  curryin' 
on  't  out,  an'  rubbin'  on  promatum  an'  all  that ;  't  was 
just  goin'  to  bankrupt  me,  so  I  hed  ter  give  it  up.  But 
a  man  'at  hes  time  fer  it  '11  find  it  one  o'  the  most  in- 
terestin'  and  iraprovin'  things  he  kin  do;  an' if  he 
cares  anythin'  about  the  admiration  o'  women,  why, 


Ml!.    MAC  \\'II1SK  ESS.  103 

sech  a  pair  o'  whiskers  is  a  fortiu  to  him.  Some  folks 
sez  it's  too  small  business  fer  a  man  ter  go  inter. 
Let  'em  try  it,  I  say,  an'  see  ef  it's  so  very  small.  I 
can  tell  'em  it 's  a  mighty  big  business.  Why,  with  the 
time  and  money  and  painstakin'  and  incidental  ex- 
penses o'  sech  a  pair  o'  whiskers  es  yourn,  a  man  c'd 
nigh  about  run  a  sawmill  or  a  grocery  store." 

"  Pshaw  !  "  said  MacAllan,  reddening. 

"  Don't  tell  me,"  rejoined  Lezer ;  "  I  've  been  there 
an'  I  know  what  it  costs  to  a  cent.  Some  folks  sez 
it's  makin'  a  man  like  a  hoss.  What  ef  'tis?  Ther' 
a'u't  no  nobler  critter  'u  a  hoss.  But  arter  all,  a  hoss 
'11  beat  a  man  raisin'  hair  and  not  give  half  the  time 
to  it  neither.  I  was  ter  Milwaukee  ter  the  fair  las' 
fall  an'  I  see  a  big  Norman  hoss  there  'at  hed  a  mane 
over  seven  foot  long  —  actilly  swept  the  ground! 
They  had  ter  keep  it  done  up  in  a  net  like  what  women 
use,  only  forty  times  es  big,  ter  keep  him  from  step- 
pin'  on  it.  I  'd  allus  lived  in  hopes,  arter  I  cut  off  my 
whiskers,  'at  I  sho'd  be  rich  enough  some  time  to  raise 
another  pair,  mebby  longer  'n  them  was.  But  when  I  see 
that  air  hoss  pranciu'  round  with  a  seven-foot  mane  un- 
der his  huffs,  sez  I  ter  myself,  '  It 's  no  use  fer  a  human 
bein'  ter  go  inter  competition  on  hair  with  the  beasts 
thet  perish  ; '  sez  I,  '  Every  switch  of  a  hoss's  tail  puts 
the  biggest  whiskers  inter  the  shade.'  But  I  hed  n'% 
ought  ter  take  sech  discouraged  views  of  it.  Ef  a 


104  THE  EOCKANOCK  STAGE. 

man  can't  do  es  well  es  a  boss,  let  him  do  es  well  es 
he  kin,  that 's  what  I  say.  But  he  won't  get  no  sym- 
pathy. Nobody  knows  how  bard  he  works  to  git  a 
crop.  I  love  ter  watch  them  air  young  fellers  with 
their  fust  mustash.  Why,  their  devotion  to  it  is  per- 
fickly  beautiful !  How  they  tend  it  an'  coax  it  an' 
stretch  it  —  when  they  kin  git  hold  on 't  —  an'  twist  up 
the  eends,  if  there  be  any,  an'  curl  under  the  edges, 
an'  touch  it  with  the'r  tongue,  an'  try  so  hard  to  bring 
it  up  jest  right !  Seems  zif  they  can't  do  enough  fer 
it.  Can't  keep  the'r  fingers  off  on  it.  I  tell  ye,  it 's 
Itrautiful.  Some  folks  laughs  at  'em,  and  calls  'em 
imistash-nusses,  au'  all  that.  Let  'em  try  it  them- 
s-'Ivt's,  I  say,  the  mean,  onfeelin'  catterwumps !  " 

Mr.  MacAllan  laughed  at  the  driver's  last  speech, 
which  could  not  be  construed  as  personal,  and  Lezer 
relented  toward  him,  and  resolved  to  be  more  lenient 
than  he  had  intended.  "  Speakin'  about  whiskers  and 
liosscs,"  said  he,  ''makes  me  think  of  a  play  I  see 
down  ter  Chicago,  Merchant  o'  Venus,  or  somethiu' 
that " — 

"Venice?"  suggested  Mr.  MacAllau,  coloring  as  he 
did  so,  for  a  reason  which  the  reader  already  under- 
stands. 

"Guess  'tis  Merchant  o'  Venice;  guess  that's  it. 
They's  a  young  swell  goin'  off  courtin',  an'  another 
swell  loans  him  some  money,  an'  so  on.  Then  they 's 


MB.    MACWIIISKERS.  105 

an  old  man  tryin'  ter  find  his  son,  and  he  's  so  blind 
he  don't  know  him  when  he  does  find  him  ;  an'  the 
young  feller  fools  with  him  awhile  an'  then  up  an'  tells 
him  who  he  is,  an'  he  don't  believe  it ;  an'  he  puts  it 
stronger  V  stronger,  an'  so  forth  an'  so  on."*  Both  on 
'em  's  sort  o'  idgeots ;  the  young  idgeot  's  fussy,  an' 
the  old  one  's  kinder  mournful.  Bimeby  the  young 
one  kneels  afore  the  old  one,  wrong  way  about,  an' 
(lit-  old  one  feels  o'  the  young  one's  head,  an'  thinks 
it 's  his  face,  an'  he  yells  out,  '  What  a  beard  hast  thou 
got !  Thou  hast  got  more  hair  on  thy  chin  than 
Dobbin,  my  iill-hoss,  has  on  his  tail!'  Them's  the 
very  words.  I  liked  the  idgeots  well  enough,  but  them 
two  swells,  I  didn't  take  no  stock  in,  speshually  the 
fust  one  —  run  through  his  fortin  he  bed,  an'  then 
went  off,  on  borrid  money,  ter  where  they  wuz  some 
kind  o'  guessin'  game  goiu'  on  ter  win  a  rich  girl ;  an' 
the  wust  on  it  wuz  he  got  her,  though  she  wuz  a 
thousau'  million  times  too  good  fer  him.  I  allus  want 
U-r  kick  sech  a  feller's  that.  But  what 's  the  use  o' 
gittiu  mad  over  him?  'T  was  only  a  play,  anyhow.  I 
don't  s'pose  scch  things  actilly  happen  ;  do  you?" 

kt  Of  course  not." 

Between  the  speakers  in  this  conversation  and  the 
inside  passengers  there  hung  a  thin  enamel-cloth 
curtain,  badly  cracked  and  worn,  and  having  an  oval 
opening  in  its  upper  part,  where  there  had  once  been  a 


106  THE  BOCKANOCK  STAGE. 

small  glass.  Behind  this  curtain,  and  with  her  back 
to  it,  sat  Lucy  Darling.  She  had,  therefore,  heard 
almost  the  entire  conversation,  which  was  not  of  a 
private  nature,  and  had  been  much  entertained  by  it. 
It  was  ndto  interrupted  by  the  stopping  of  the  coach, 
not  upon  old  Grey's  motion,  but  upon  Lezer's.  They 
had  reached  the  arch  at  the  brow  of  the  bluff  where 
the  view  of  Rockby  and  the  Ono  Valley  was  presented. 
Lezer  turned  the  stage  diagonally  across  the  road,  to 
expose  the  view  to  those  within.  Lucy  exclaimed 
with  delight,  and  instantly  acquitted  Helen  of  exag- 
Lremtion  in  the  descriptions  which  she  had  written. 
Even  the  old  gentleman  condescended  to  admire  the 
scene,  and  the  Rockby  people  among  the  passengers 
pointed  out  objects  of  interest,  and  enjoyed  both  the 
compliments  paid  to  their  home  and  the  luxury  of 
superior  information  concerning  it.  Mr.  MacAllan 
bit  his  lip  with  vexation  that  he  was  not  able  to  take 
part  in  the  dialogue. 

As  the  stage  rumbled  over  the  bridge  and  along  the 
principal  street,  Lucy  scanned  every  object  with  eager 
interest ;  the  pretty  cottages,  the  large  mansions,  the 
neat  lawns,  the  shrubbery,  the  beds  of  early  crocuses. 
She  leaned  from  the  coach  window  in  her  eagerness  to 
see  her  new  home,  quite  unconscious  of  the  glow  on 
her  face,  or  of  the  interest  with  which  an  occasional 
foot  passenger  looked  at  her.  Mr.  MacAllan  heard 


MR.   MACWH1KKERS.  107 

her  remarks  to  her  companions,  and  their  very  com- 
monplace replies,  caught  glimpses  over  his  shoulder  of 
fluttering  ribbons  and  part  of  a  graceful  arm,  but  was 
doomed  to  silence. 

He  hoped  that  when  the  stage  stopped  at  Dr. 
Ashley's  some  accident  would  lead  her  to  look  his 
way,  or  that  the  doctor  might  recognize  him.  But  the 
stage  was  driven  by  the  gate,  and  turned  partly  away 
from  it  for  greater  convenience  in  unloading  the 
trunks ;  and  he  could  not  even  see  her  when  she 
alighted.  There  were  tantalizing  sounds,  a  little 
scream  from  the  door  —  a  rush  —  a  noise  of  swift 
feet,  great  and  small,  on  the  gravel  walk,  confusion  of 
voices  —  feminine,  masculine,  childish  —  a  sound  of 
kisses,  a  receding  of  the  chattering  group  toward  the 
house ;  but  Mr.  Mac-Allan  could  not,  without  rude- 
ness, get  so  much  as  a  glimpse  of  it  all.  The  grim 
old  coach  shut  the  whole  scene  from  his  sight,  and 
bore  him  off  in  triumph  to  Deacon  Wauberton's. 

He  silently  paid  his  fare,  went  to  his  room,  shutting 
the  door  with  unnecessary  emphasis,  and  tlung  himself 
into  the  nearest  chair.  Two  words  only  occurred  to 
him  as  expressive  of  the  facts  in  the  case  and  of  his 
own  state  of  mind  :  — 

4 'Sold  again!" 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

SATURDAY    NIGHT. 

IT  needed  uot  the  bright,  open  lire  in  the  Ashley 
sitting  room  to  bring  the  two  sisters  together  on 
that  cool  May  evening,  but  it  heightened  Lucy's  sense 
of  comfort  as  she  settled  herself  in  the  cosy  chair, 
and  it  threw  a  most  becoming  light  upon  the  plump 
little  housewife,  sitting  opposite  with  her  basket  of 
Saturday  mending  beside  her.  The  children,  who 
had  been  voted  an  hour's  postponement  of  bedtime  in 
honor  of  Lucy's  arrival,  had  exhausted  the  privilege 
and  fifteen  minutes'  grace,  and  had  been  dragged 
away  in  a  tumult  of  laughter  and  kisses,  excepting 
baby  May,  whose  cradle  stood  near  the  mother's 
chair.  The  doctor  had  lounged  awhile  among  them 
after  tea,  but  was  now  keeping  evening  office  hours  in 
his  own  rooms.  The  sisters  were  in  no  need  of  other 
society,  but  were  absorbed  in  the  asking  and  answer- 
ing of  countless  questions,  and  the  effort  to  get 
common  possession  of  the  story  of  their  two  lives 
during  the  years  of  their  separation.  The  seminary 
and  the  nursery ;  calisthenics  and  cookery ;  Boston 
and  Rockby  ;  classmates  and  babies  ;  French  litera- 
ture and  the  measles  ;  the  major  and  the  doctor  —  so 

108 


SATURDAY  NIGHT.  109 

the  colloquial  shuttle  flew  back  and  forth  as  the 
evening  passed  by. 

There  was  a  sound  in  a  distant  part  of  the  house 
as  of  a  door  quietly  opened  and  shut.  Lucy  did  not 
notice  it,  but  Helen,  whose  consciousness  extended 
to  every  part  of  her  house,  and  who^  knew  no  such 
phenomena  as  unexplained  noises,  instantly  said, 
"Good!  there's  Maggie!  I  wondered  why  she  did 
n't  come  in.  It  is  Maggie  Wauberton,  the  sweetest 
girl  in  Rockby ;  before  you  arrived,  of  course." 

With  the  word  came  Miss  Maggie  down  the  hall, 
and  stood  at  the  sitting-room  door.  The  families 
were  on  such  terms  of  intimacy  that  ringing  and 
knocking  were  discarded  ceremonies.  Maggie  had 
heard  much  about  Lucy,  and  had  accepted  without 
abatement  every  word  of  praise  which  Mrs.  Ashley 
had  spoken  of  her.  All  the  more,  therefore,  did 
she  feel  trepidation  in  meeting  her,  being  much 
addicted  to  self-depreciation.  She  had  also  a  little 
fear  that  the  young  lady,  with  her  fine  educa- 
tion and  consciousness  of  social  importance,  might 
prove  disappointing.  Her  blushing  hesitancy  was 
extremely  becoming,  as  she  stood  framed  in  the 
sitting-room  door,  but  Mrs.  Ashley  quickly  ter- 
minated it. 

"O  Maggie!  I  am  so  glad  you  came  in!  This  is 
my  sister  Lucy.  It  is  absurd  for  me  to  introduce  you 


110  THE  liOCKAXOCK  STAGE. 

to  each  other ;  YOU  are  as  good  a"s  acquainted  already  ; 
you  know  you  are." 

The  young  ladies  exchanged  salutations  with  due 
propriety,  but  with  a  cordiality  quite  unusual  between 
strangers,  and  decided  that  they  should  like  each 
other.  » 

"There,  that  will  do!"  laughed  Mrs.  Ashley. 
"  Very  proper,  indeed.  But  mind  you,"  she  added, 
with  an  imperious  nod  and  a  shake  of  her  finger,  "  no 
more  surnaming  after  this.  I  have  decreed  that  you 
two  girls  shall  love  each  other.  Understand  !  " 

"O  Mrs.  Ashley!"  said  Maggie,  "your  sister 
cannot  love  me  upon  compulsion." 

"That  I  will  not,"  said  Lucy.  "I  will  love  you 
spontaneously."  And  it  was  so. 

"I  heard  of  your  arrival,"  remarked  Maggie, 
"  through  Mr.  MacAllan." 

"Yes?"  responded  Lucy  interrogatively,  ashamed 
of  the  word.  She  detested  the  interrogative  Yes. 

"Yes,"  repeated  Maggie.  "He  didn't  see  you, 
being  on  the  outside  ;  but  he  knew  that  a  passenger 
got  out  at  the  doctor's,  and  I  knew  it  must  be  you." 

"Is  he  your  new  boarder?"  asked  Mrs.  Ashley. 
"  \Vho  is  he?" 

"  I  think  he  is  an  Eastern  gentleman  who  has  come 
West,  partly  for  health,  and  partly  for  business." 

"What  bu.-ini-ss?" 


SATURDAY  NIGHT.  Ill 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know  exactly  what.  Papa  says  he 
seems  to  be  a  man  of  some  means.  He  has  been 
making  a  good  many  inquiries  about  farm  lands,  and 
so  forth  ;  I  don't  know." 

"  What  brought  him  to  Rockby?" 

"  I  think  the  place  was  recommended  to  him  by 
Chicago  friends,  who  have  investments  here  that  he  is 
looking  after.  He  thinks  he  met  Miss  Darling  in 
Chicago." 

"  Indeed !  "  exclaimed  Helen,  looking  at  Lucy,  who 
showed  little  interest  and  no  embarrassment. 

"  Yes,"  continued  Maggie,  "  when  I  mentioned  the 
name  he  said,  '  Why,  I  met  a  Miss  Darling  at  the 
Tremout  House. ,  It  can't  be  the  same  one,  I  pre- 
sume.' And  then  he  described  her,"  —  here  Maggie 
blushed  a  good  deal, ; —  "  but  of  course  I  could  n't  tell 
by  that,  and  said  she  was  with  a  fine,  English-looking 
old  gentleman,  whom  he  took  to  be  her  step-father,  as 
he  had  a  different  name,  a  major  something;  and 
when  I  suggested  Gibson,  he  said,  *  Oh,  yes,  Major 
Gibson ! ' " 

"  Very  well  remembered,  Mr.  MacAllan,"  said 
Helen.  "Can  the  young  lady  do  as  well?" 

"  Oh,  he  said  she  would  not  remember  him  ;  that  the 
introduction  was  quite  casual,  scarcely  an  introduction 
at  all ;  that  he  merely  sang  a  hymn  or  two  with  her  at 
somebody's  else  request,  but  that  if  he  had  known  she 


112  THE  ROCKAXOCK  STAGE. 

was  in  the  coach  he  certainly  would  have  ventured  to 
speak  to  her." 

*'  Indeed,  I  remember  him  perfectly  well,"  said 
Lucy,  "  though  I  did  not  remember  his  name,  and 
never  expected  to  hear  of  him  again.  He  was  very 
improperly  brought  forward,  through  the  amiable  stu- 
pidity of  Mr.  Transington,  but  behaved  extremely 
well,  and  sang  well,  too." 

"  So  far,  so  good,"  said  Helen,  "  and  now  about  the 
description  that  you  blushed  to  think  of,  Maggie." 

"  Oh,  I  think  we  will  omit  that.  I  could  n't  quote  it 
exactly,  but  it  was  very  complimentary,  as  to  the 
looks,  and  the  singing,  too,  though  he  did  n't  seem  to 
mean  it  as  a  compliment,  but  was  just  trying  to  de- 
scribe her  to  me,  so  that  I  should  know  whether  it  was 
the  same  Miss  Darling  that  I  meant." 

"  Hear,  hear  !  "  cried  Helen,  laying  down  her  mend- 
ing and  looking  mischievously  at  Lucy.  "  Here  is  a 
pretty  bit  of  romance.  The  hero  and  heroine  meet  by 
chance,  and  part,  seemingly,  forever.  Each  is  favor- 
ably impressed ;  each  carries  away  the  indelible  image 
of  the  other.  He  praises  her  beauty  and  accomplish- 
ments ;  she  praises  his  talents  and  demeanor.  They 
ride  in  the  same  coach  together,  but  cruel  fate  with- 
holds them  from  each  other's  sight,  and  at  their  jour- 
ney's end  tears  them  again  asunder,  yet  to  separate 
seems  impossible.  The  same  small  village  holds  them. 


SATURDAY  NIGHT.  113 

They  are  in  adjacent  houses.  A  friend  bears  to  each 
tidings  of  the  other.  —  To  be  continued." 

Lucy  laughed  gayly  at  her  sister's  extravagant  con- 
ceit ;  almost  too  gayly,  indeed,  and  with  a  subtle 
undertone  of  annoyance,  so  that  the  three  were  on  the 
verge  of  embarrassment  when  to  their  relief  Dr.  Ashley 
entered  the  room,  bringing  Deacon  Wauberton. 

"What  riot  is  this?"  he  demanded.  "  Lucy,  this 
is  your  doing.  It  is  against  the  rules  of  the  house. 
Laughing  is  positively  forbidden,  unless  I  know  and 
approve  the  reason  for  it.  So  out  with  it." 

'•  We  have  done  so,  sir,  before  your  arrival.  But  if 
you  are  in  the  mood  for  family  discipline  deal  with 
Helen.  We  are  laughing  at  her  nonsense,  which  is 
strictly  feminine  and  unreportable." 

'•  Helen,  have  you  anything  to  say  for  yourself?  " 

"  Yes,  sir  ;  introduce  Mr.  Wauberton  to  my  sister." 

"  Oh,  to  be  sure  !  I  had  at  first  determined  to  with- 
hold the  introduction  as  a  punishment  for  her  levity, 
but  I  see  that  the  guilt  lies  elsewhere.  Mr.  Wauber- 
ton, our  sister,  Miss  Darling.  Now  sit  down,  deacon, 
and  all  of  you,  while  Mrs.  Ashley  repeats  the  alleged 
nonsense  for  our  benefit." 

"I  beg  you,  for  her  own  sake,  not  to  ask  it,"  said 
Lucy  ;  "  she  is  suffering  from  abnormal  development 
of  the  imagination,  and  should  not  be  further  excited." 

"  Oh,  now,  see  here  "  — 


114  THE  ROCKANOCK  STAGE. 

"  A  moment,  if  you"  please,  sir.  I  know  what  you 
would  say.  You  would  say  the  disorder  is  epidemic 
in  Rockby.  I  am  aware  that  it  is  so.  I  met  a  most 
alarming  case  of  it  to-day  in  the  driver  of  the  Rock- 
anock  stage." 

The  diversion  was  ingenious,  and  succeeded  per- 
fectly. The  reference  to  Lezer  turned  the  conversation 
instantly  into  a  new  channel.  Every  one  was  eager  to 
know  with  which  of  his  romances  he  bad  favored 
Lucy,  or  whether  some  new  one  had  been  created  for 
the  occasion. 

Lucy  showed  no  reluctance  to  gratify  them,  but 
gave  them  entertaining  selections  from  the  day's  expe- 
rience. Her  introduction  to  the  driver  and  his  stage  ; 
Lezer's  discourse  with  the  cross  old  gentleman;  his 
critique  and  personal  reminiscences  concerning  ears ; 
his  lecture  on  spring  foliage,  omitting  the  closing 
questions  addressed  to  herself ;  the  balky-horse  scene, 
—  all  these  were  graphically  reported.  The  conversa- 
tion which  she  had  overheard  between  Lezer  and  Mr. 
MacAllan  she  thought  it  best,  for  several  reasons,  not 
to  mention,  though  she  was  inwardly  convulsed  *at  the 
recollection  of  it. 

No  one  of  the  company  appreciated  the  humor  of 
the  driver  or  the  graphic  reproductions  of  it  by  this 
sprightly  narrator  more  than  Deacon  Wauberton.  He 
was  a  small,  spare  man,  perhaps  five-and-fifty  years 


SATURDAY  NIGHT.  115 

of  age,  with  a  face  as  benevolent  as  that  of  any  saint. 
His  hair  was  iron  gray,  so  was  the  irregular  fringe 
of  whiskers  that  hedged  in  his  face.  The  nose  was 
rather  small  and  the  mouth  rather  large,  and  there 
-omething  about  the  wrinkles  at  the  corner  of  the 
eye  and  the  lines  of  the  lips  and  cheeks  that  seemed 
always  to  suggest  that  he  had  smiled  a  moment  ago, 
and  the  expression  had  not  wholly  faded  out  or  was 
just  about  to  come  again.  He  was  a  cabinet-maker 
and  had  his  small  shop  at  the  rear  of  his  house,  where 
he  mended  broken  chairs,  made  the  coffins  of  his 
neighbors,  and  occasionally  did  a  fine  piece  of  joiner's 
work  for  a  special  customer.  He  was  a  man  of  un- 
blemished integrity,  wide  information,  and  excellent 
judgment.  He  had  a  very  humble  opinion  of  himself, 
was  diffident  about  advancing  his  own  ^views,  and  was 
usually  silent  in  general  conversation.  When  he  spoke 
his  speech  was  slow  and  hesitating  and  not  always 
faultless  in  grammar  or  pronunciation,  though  it  forcibly 
conveyed  some  unmistakably  good  sense:  But  he  was 
one  of  the  best  of  listeners  —  which  is  itself  a  mark 
of  genius.  Lucy's  narrative  entertained  him  greatly, 
as  the  tears  rolling  down  his  cheeks  testified. 

"  Lezer 's  an  exlryordinary  man,"  he  observed 
when  the  laugh  which  followed  Lucy's  recital  had  sub- 
sided ;  "  a  very  extryordinary  man,  and  I  call  him  a 
useful  man  in  his  way.  I  don't  exactly  approve  his 


116  THE  KOCKANOCK  STAGE. 

way,  and  yet  I  sort  of  like  it  too.  It  seems  as  if  a 
man  ought  n't  to  say  so  much  that  he  does  n't  mean  ; 
but  what  he  does  mean  is  generally  all  right,  and  his 
little  fictions  seem  just  to  set  it  home.  It 's  one  of 
those  things  that  you  have  to  condemn  on  general 
principles  and  yet  you  can't  help  being  pleased  by 
it.  As  the  apostle  says,  there  's  a  law  in  your  mem- 
bers warring  against  the  law  of  your  mind.  I  can't 
help  but  think,  doctor,  that  Lezer  does  some  good 
with  his  stories,  if  he  does  make  'em  up.  There 's 
a  pretty  sound  lesson  in  'em  most  always,  don't  you 
think?" 

"Indeed  I  do;  and  I  have  reason  to  know  it.     It 

% 

isn't  an  hour  since  I  got  a  home  thrust  from  him  on 
the  subject  of  supplies.  You  see,"  explained  the 
doctor  to  Lucy,  "  we  have  been  without  any  regular 
supply  for  more  than  a  year." 

Lucy  looked  aghast.  Was  the  family  in  straitened 
circumstances?  Was  the  doctor  losing  his  practice? 
kt  Without  supply  !  "  she  asked  incredulously. 

"Yes;  without  any  stated  supply.  Of  course 
we  've  had  transient  supplies,  and  some  of  them  worse 
than  nothing,  too.  We've  just  been  living  from  hand 
to  mouth." 

"Tom!  What  do  you  mean?  Who  have  been 
living  from  hand  to  mouth?" 

"Why,  the  church,  the  church;   don't  you  under- 


SATURDAY  NIGHT.  117 

stand?  It's  actually  been  a  year  and  more  without  a 
regular  supply." 

"Oh!"  said  Lucy,  greatly  relieved;  "the  church 
supplies  —  the  money  for  meeting  its  expenses." 

"  No,  no  !  the  pastoral  supply." 

"Certainly;  that  is  what  I  mean;  the  means  of 
paying  the  minister's  salary." 

"  You  precious  pagan,  no  !  "  cried  Helen  ;  "  the  min- 
ister himself !  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  you  never 
heard  of  such  a  thing  as  a  stated  supply?" 

"  If  I  had,  I  certainly  should  not  imagine  it  to  refer 
to  a  man.  I  supposed  the  supply  of  a  flock  was  what 
they  ate,  which  is  not  as  a  rule  the  shepherd,  I  pre- 
sume." 

"  N-n-o  —  perhaps  not  as  a  rule,"  said  the  doctor; 
"  but  as  a  frequent  and  melancholy  exception.  We 
have  devoured  one  now  and  then,  and  have  now  and 
then  been  devoured." 

"  Now  I  begin  to  be  interested  in  supplies,"  said 
Lucy. 

"The  term  isn't  a  very  happy  one,"  remarked  the 
deacon,  studying  a  figure  of  the  carpet.  kv  We 
borrowed  it  along  with  a  great  many  others,  good, 
bad,  and  indifferent,  from  New  England.  At  any 
rate,  as  the  doctor  was  saying,  our  church  has  been 
vacant  for  a  year  and  more." 

vl  Vacant?"    repeated    Lucy    in    a    fresh    puzztet 


118  THE  ROCKANOCK  STAGE. 

"What!  no  services  for  a  year!  I  thought  }TOU  said 
you  had  transient  supplies." 

The  deacon  lifted  his  eyes  toward  her  and  smiled 
benignantly.  Helen  and  the  doctor  shouted  with 
laughter. 

'•  Lu  Darling  !  "  cried  Helen,  "  do  you  call  yourself 
educated,  and  don't  know  the  meaning  of  the  com- 
monest phrase  relating  to  church  matters?  " 

'•I  have  not  been  educated  to  call  things  vacant 
when  they  are  occupied,"  replied  Lucy  with  unruffled 
good  humor ;  "but  if  it  is  considered  the  thing  in  this 
latitude,  I  will  cheerfully  do  so.  I  would  not  think  of 
objecting  to  a  trifling  paradox  like  that.  You  also 
speak,  I  presume,  of  the  fullness  of  an  empty  jug, 
and  of  the  populousness  of  an  uninhabited  island.  I 
think  I  am  going  to  like  your  language  very  much 
when  I  master  a  few  of  its  idioms." 

"  You  will  have  to  learn  the  language  of  parish 
business  if  you  expect  to  understand  current  conver- 
sation in  this  family,"  said  Helen.  "You  will  hear  it 
day  and  night." 

"  Know,  therefore,"  said  the  doctor,  "that  a  parish 
is  vacant  when  it  has  no  pastor,  as  every  one  is  aware, 
miss,  who  has  the  least  acquaintance  with  church 
statistics." 

"Have  patience  with  me,  Tom.  Church  statistics, 
the  calculus,  and  some  other  branches  of  higher  mathe- 


SATURDAY  NIGHT.  119 

matics  were  not  taught  in  our  seminary.  I  hope  to 
take  them  up  privately,  and  am  delighted  to  know  that 
they  are  household  words  with  you.  I  shall  soon  learn 
them  by  the  natural  method,  and  excel  you  all  in  the 
use  of  unintelligible  terms." 

"  By  the  same  token,  then,  you  mean  to  spend  some 
years  with  us.  That  will  please  us  all,  I  assure  you." 

"  Thank  you ;  that  will  depend  upon  your  making 
yourself  agreeable.  And  now,  please,  if  you  have 
exulted  enough  over  a  poor  friendless  girl,  let  us  hear 
about  that  home  thrust  that  the  stage  driver  gave  you 
to-day." 


CHAPTER    IX. 

A    HOME    THRUST. 

E  home  thrust,"  replied  the  doctor,  "was  con- 
cerning  this  same  matter  of  pastoral  supplies. 
K \vry body  knows  that  I  am  chairman  of  the  commit- 
tee on  candidates,  and  so  everybody  calls  on  me  for 
the  latest  information  on  the  subject.  I  met  Lezer  at 
the  postoffice  door,  and  he  came  up  to  me,  as  if  he  had 
been  looking  for  me  on  purpose  to  ask  the  question. 
'  Doctor,'  said  he,  '  who  ye  goiu'  ter  show  off  to- 
morrer  ? ' 

"  '  Rev.  Philetus  Dorchison,'  I  answered. 

••  •  What 's  his  strong  p'ints?'  said  he. 

"  '  That 's  for  him  to  show,'  said  I,  '  if  he  has  any.' 

"  '  Jest  so,'  said  Lezer,  '  that  's  what  I  used  ter  tell 
'em.  1  wuz  on  a  committee  o'  supply  once,  an'  I  used 
ter  tell  'em,  sez  I,  "  What  we  want  o'  you  is  ter  show 
off  yer  strong  p'ints."  Some  on  'em  'ud  try  ter  tell 
me  how  they  wuz  n't  meu-pleasers,  an'  how  they  wanted 
ter  preach  the  gospil,  an'  how  the  congregation  oughter 
be  a-wushipiu  God  an'  not  a-crittercizin  the  preacher, 
an'  so  forth  an'  so  on,  an'  they  'd  quote  Paul  to  me, 
an'  all  that.  But  I  told  'em,  sez  I,  "  Thet's  all  well 
enough  when  things  is  in  reggerler  runniu'  order.  We 

120 


A   HOME    THRUST.  121 

a'n't.  We  don't  go  tcr  meetin'  ter  wuship  God  ner 
ter  bear  the  gospil.  We  jest  go  ter  size  up  you 
preachers  an'  see  what  ther'  is  about  ye  'at  we,  don't 
like."  "  What  staudud  hev  ye  sot  up?"  sez  one 
white-livered  feller,  sez  he.  "The  easiest  one  in  the 
world,"  sez  I.  "  The  man  'at  nobody  kin  find  any 
fault  with  is  the  man  fer  us.  Now  you  jes  think  o' 
that  every  iniuit  while  yer  preachin',  an'  sail  right  in." 
But  he  did  n't  do  nothin'.  They  wuz  more  'n  a  dozen 
people  'at  did  n't  like  him.' 

"  '  Did  you  find  a  faultless  man  at  last?'  I  asked. 

"  •  No,1  said  he.  '  We  tried  seven  years,  an'  all  the 
while  the  church  wuz  gittiu  more  'n'  more  pertickler. 
We  tried  every  minister  in  the  United  States  'at  we 
could  git  to  come  nigh  us,  with  some  from  England  an' 
Scotland,  an'  ther'  wan't  one  good  enuf  fer  us.  Then 
we  held  a  meetin'  to  see  what  oughter  be  done  next, 
and  we  got  to  quar'lin'  amongst  ourselves.  Some 
blamed  the  committee  fer  not  gittiu  the  right  sort  er 
c-andydate,  an'  some  blamed  the  fault-finding  members 
'at  could  n't  be  suited  with  nobody.  Thet  riz  two 
parties,  an'  the  biggest  party  excommunicated  the 
smallest  one.  Then  it  got  to  quar'lin'  and  split  again, 
and  the  merjorryty  excommunicated  the  mernorryty. 
An'  so  it  went  on,  till  I  wuz  the  only  one  left  in  the 
church.  I  sold  the  meetin'-house  ter  the  Uuiversalists, 
ao'  give  the  money  ter  the  S'ciety  fer  the  Eddycatiou 


122  THE  EOCKANOOK  STAGE. 

of  Cherubims  fer  the  Ministry.  I  wuz  awfully  'buzed, 
I  can  tell  ye,  an'  so  wuz  the  rest  on  us,  an'  sassed  an' 
laughed  at,  an'  so  forth  an'  so  on,  but,  land !  I  never 
budged  an  inch,  ner  give  in  'at  I  wuz  wrong.  Sez  I, 
"I'll  either  git  a  minister  'at  nobody  kin  find  fault 
with,  or  else  I  '11  bust  out  the  hull  concern  !  "  An'  I 
did.' 

"I  thanked  Lezer  for  the  light  of  his  experience, 
and  asked  for  the  postofflce  address  of  the  Cherubim 
Society.  He  took  a  step  closer  to  me  and  said  sadly, 
'  The  ongrateful  critters  hes  gone  an'  made  a  regger- 
lation  'at  no  cherubim  shell  go  out  candidatin'.  But 
you  keep  right  on  the  way  you  're  doin',  Doc.  Don't 
ye  give  in.  Don't  ye  let  'em  bluff  ye.  They  '11  try 
ter.  They  're  laughin'  at  ye,  an'  callin'  ye  The  Church 
o'  the  Holy  Coxcombs,  an'  jokin'  about  yer  callin'  St. 
Paul,  an'  refusin'  Gabriel,  an'  so  forth  an'  so  on. 
But  don't  ye  let  'em  bluff  ye.  You  jest  go  in  fer  a  man 
'at  nobody  kin  find  fault  with,  er  else  bust  the  church.' " 

"  The  impudent  fellow  I  "  exclaimed  Helen  warmly. 
1 '  I  don't  see  how  the  rest  of  you  can  be  amused  at 
such  impertinence.  It's  a  very  serious  matter,  and 
one,  begging  Sir  Oracle's  pardon,  quite  beyond  his 
comprehension." 

"  I  think  he  has  put  the  case  very  fairly  and  forci- 
bly," said  the  doctor.  "I  don't  think  the  deacon 
could  have  done  better,  and  I  know  that  I  could  not." 


A   HOME    THRUST.  123 

"  But  you  don't  tell  me,"  said  Lucy,  "  that  there  is 
really  any  serious  truth  in  his  representation  ?  Surely, 
no  Christian  church  could  think  of  adopting  the  exhi- 
bition plan  for  getting  a  minister." 

''It  is  the  customary  method,  my  unsophisticated 
sister,"  replied  Dr.  Ashley. 

"  What-!  set  them  up,  one  after  another,  to  show  off 
before  an  audience  assembled  for  the  express  purpose 
of  criticism?" 

"  Certainly  ;  did  you  never  attend  such  an  enter- 
tainment? " 

"  Never !  " 

"  You  shall  see  one  to-morrow." 

"Do  you  suppose  I  would  go?  Do  you  think  1 
have  no  morals?  Attend  a  game  of  cruelty,  and 
on  Sunday?  Why,  I  would  not  go  to  see  a  bull- 
fight when  I  was  in  Madrid,  and  I  am  sure  this  is 
worse." 

"  Of  course  it  is,"  said  the  doctor. 

"Tom  and  Lu,  you  are  talking  nonsense,  both  of 
you,  and  you  know  it!"  cried  Helen.  "How  can  a 
church  tell  whether  they  want  a  man  as  their  pastor  if 
they  don't  see  him  and  hear  him?  Come  now?  " 

"  What  can  they  tell  by  a  Sunday  parade,  except 
that  he  is  not  preaching  for  any  legitimate  purpose?" 
retorted  Lucy. 

"  Please  to  answer  my  question  before  you  bring 


124  THE  ROCKANOCK  STAGE. 

forward  your  own.  In  what  other  way  can  a  church 
proceed  intelligently?"  persisted  Helen. 

"  I  have  answered  it  by  another  question.  I  will 
answer  by  another  still.  How  are  teachers,  college 
professors,  clerks,  servant  girls,  judges,  governors, 
presidents  chosen?  Is  the  ministry  the  only  calling 
in  which  the  candidate's  eligibility  cannot  be  ascer- 
tained without  making  him  contemptible?  For  my 
part,  I  am  in  favor  of  the  new  '  reggerlation '  of  the 
Cherubim  Society.  If  I  were  a  clergyman,  I  would 
sooner  cut  off  my  right  hand  than  make  such  an 
exhibition  of  myself." 

"  I  think,"  said  the  deacon,  "  that  Miss  Darling  is 
about  right.  The  candidating  system  is  a  bad  one, 
and  it  has  worked  very  badly  for  us.  The  more  can- 
didates we  hear,  the  harder  we  are  to  suit,  and  the 
farther  we  are  from  a  choice.  We  've  heard,  I  sup- 
pose, twenty  candidates,  and  I  do  believe  we  should 
be  better  off  to-day  with  the  poorest  one  in  the  lot, 
than  we  are  with  everything  unsettled  this  way,  and  a 
church  scattered  like  a  flock  without  a  shepherd." 

"  A  flock  without  an  appetite  !  That 's  what 's  the 
matter,  deacon,"  said  the  doctor  with  a  ringing  slap 
upon  his  thigh  ;  "  a  flock  with  bad  digestion,  bilious, 
spleeuy,  and  subject  to  nausea,  colic,  and  fits ;  a  flock 
that  can't  eat  good  grass  and  won't  eat  dry  hay,  but 
cries  for  cut  feed  and  lumps  of  sugar  and  high- 


A  HOME  TirnrsT.  125 

seasoned  hot  gruel !  Talk  about  supplying  such  a 
pack  of  sick  lambs  as  that !  What  they  need  is  a 
good,  big  dose  of  starvation." 

"  We  are  likely  to  get  one  to-morrow,  are  n't  we?  " 
asked  Helen  quietly,  without  looking  up  from  her 
darning. 

''There  it  is  again!"  said  the  doctor.  "We  are 
going  for  the  twentieth  time  through  the  ceremony  of 
hearing  a  candidate.  We  shall  then  hold  the  church 
mi'i-ting  of  the  corresponding  number.  Each  member 
will  have  his  objections,  expressed  or  concealed; 
each  objection  will  produce  an  adverse  vote,  and  the 
aggregate  objections  will  reject  the  candidate.  Then 
we  shall  call  '  Next,'  and  go  through  the  process  again. 
And  we  have  the  effrontery  to  call  this  heathenish 
farce  maintaining  the  ordinances  of  the  gospel !  " 

"•I  think  the  doctor's  a  little  too  hard,"  said  the 
deacon,  smiling  deprecatingly,  and  again  looking  at 
Lucy,  who  had  the  power  of  drawing  other  people's 
eyes  toward  her  in  general  conversation.  "It  a'n't 
quite  so  bad  as  that,  but  it 's  bad  enough ;  it 's  too 
bad,  it  is,  indeed,  and  I  feel  as  if  it  must  somehow  be 
mended.  We're  getting  a  bad  reputation,  for  one 
thing  ;  though,  of  course,  that  a'n't  so  bad  as  it  is  to 
deserve  it." 

"A  bad  reputation?  —  the  church?"  said  Helen 
quickly,  for  the  church  was  to  her  as  the"  apple  of  her 


126  THE  EOCKANOCK  STAGE. 

eye.  "Oh,  no!  I  don't  think  it  is  a  matter  of  repu- 
tation. That  is  Lezer's  fiction.  What  have  other 
people  to  do  with  it,  anyway?" 

"  I  don't  mean  people  in  general,  but  other  churches. 
We  have  the  name  of  being  notional,  conceited,  hard 
to  suit.  I  've  had  it  thrown  up  at  me  more  'n  once  by 
brethren  in  other  places." 

"  Then  I  say,  brethren  in  other  places  are  imperti- 
nent, that 's  all !  "  responded  Helen  warmly. 

"Well,  I  don't  know  as  I  think  it  is  altogether 
impertinent,  Sister  Ashley.  We  are  all  of  a  family 
together ;  when  one  member  suffers,  all  suffer.  But, 
as  I  was  saying,  it 's  worse  to  deserve  a  bad  reputa- 
tion than  it  is  to  have  it.  I  confess  that  when  I  wrote 
to  that  young  Mr.  Nosham  last  summer,  and  asked 
him  to  come  here  as  a  candidate,  and  he  refused  flat 
out,  and  said  that  from  what  he  learned  about 
us  he  was  sure  he  would  n't  suit  us,  or  we  him,  I  just 
felt  to  hold  my  peace." 

"Why,  Mr.  Wauberton,  I  think  it's  a  wicked 
slander  !  I  don't  care  —  you  can't  find  a  nicer  set  of 
people  anywhere  than  our  church,  if  -you  count  out 
present  company.  I  can't  stand  it  to  have  such  things 
said  about  them,  and  by  a  young  upstart  like  that 
Nosham  or  Allsham,  whichever  he  may  be." 

"No  more  can  I,  and  I  propose  that  we  put  a 
stop  to  it." 


A  HOME   THRUST.  127 

"How?" 

"  Get  a  pastor  within  sixty  days." 

"  Capital  plan  !  "  said  the  doctor.  "  I  think  I  '11  try 
something  like  it  in  my  profession.  '  Messrs.  A,  B, 
and  C,'  say  I,  '  put  a  stop  to  this  pneumonia,  this 
typhoid  fever,  this  one-leggedness.'  'How?'  say 
Messrs.  A,  B,  and  C.  '  By  getting  well,'  say  I." 

The  deacon  smiled  serenely.  "You  got  a  very 
good  turn  on  me,  doctor,  but  I  stick  up  to  what  I  said. 
Of  course  I  don't  mean  to  cure  our  complaint  without 
remedies." 

"  For  instance?" 

"  Humility." 

"  Excellent,  if  not  taken  in  too  large  doses.  Go 
on." 

"  Mutual  forbearance." 

"  Works  well  with  some  temperaments ;  not  a 
favorite  with  me." 

"  Putting  away  prejudices." 

"  Valuable  remedy  for  many  disorders.  Directions  : 
Three  times  a  day  and  before  retiring.  Anything 
else?  " 

' '  Exhortation  to  the  church  on  the  necessity  of 
agreement." 

"  DnninTotis,  but  efficient  in  skillful  hands.  Sweeten 
to  the  taste  and  administer  as  occasion  requires." 

"Tom  Ashley,"  said   Helen,  "do  stop  your  non- 


128  THE  XOCKANOCK  STAGE. 

sense  !  I  won't  Lave  this  thing  turned  into  ridicule. 
It  is  too  serious  a  matter,  and  you  feel  it  to  be  so, 
just  as  much  as  Mr.  Wauberton  does ;  you  know  you 
do.  Now  listen  to  sense." 

"Give  us  some  then,  little  wifey." 

"Mr.  \Vaubertou  has  the  floor.  Now,  Mr.  Wau- 
berton, tell  us  what  is  to  be  done,  and  I  will  keep  the 
doctor  in  subjection  with  my  darning  needle." 

She  drew  the  weapon  from  the  stocking,  like  a 
dagger  from  its  sheath,  and  held  it  menacingly  be- 
tween her  thumb  and  fingers.  Then,  as  the  deacon 
resumed  his  discourse,  the  other  hand  stole  softly  over 
to  the  doctor's  on  the  arm  of  his  chair,  and  closed 
over  a. couple  of  his  ample  fingers  with  a  playful  little 
squeeze.  There  was  a  sidelong  interchange  of  looks, 
and  the  faintest  trace  of  a  smile  on  either  face,  and 
they  turned  toward  the  speaker,  who  had  already 
turned  toward  Lucy.  Lucy  had  seen  the  bit  of  con- 
nubial pantomime,  and  had  been  strangely  touched  by 
it.  "  Helen  is  happy  then,"  she  said  to  herself  ;  "  and 
this  sparring  and  scolding  is  only  the  pretty  coquetry 
of  lovers." 

"  My  idea,"  the  deacon  was  saying,  "  is  something 
like  this :  Let 's  make  up  our  minds  to  like  this  Mr. 
Dorchison  that's  going  to  preach  for  us  to-morrow. 
He  comes  well  recommended.  His  record  in  other 
fields  is  good.  He  has  the  esteem  of  his  ministerial 


A  HOME   THRUST.  129 

brethren.  He  's  been  fairly  successful.  What  more 
do  we  want?  You  don't  like  him  very  well,  and  I 
don't ;  but  others  do,  and  I  've  made  up  my  mind  that 
I  will.  I  'm  going  to  meeting  to-morrow  not  to  be 
pleased,  but  to  worship  God  and  to  listen  to  the 
gospel,  if  I'm  the  only  one  in  the  house  that  does  it." 

"  You  sha'n't  be  the  only  one,  deacon,"  said  the 
doctor  heartily  ;  "  I  '11  join  you  for  all  I  'm  worth." 

"  So  will  I,"  said  Helen  with  a  tighter  squeeze  on 
the  two  fingers. 

"  So  will  I,"  added  Maggie  timidly. 

"Well,"  said  the  deacon,  "there's  four  of  us; 
and  I  suppose  five,"  looking  at  Lucy  with  one  of  his 
most  persuasive  smiles. 

Lucy  colored  deeply.  "  I  am  hardly  one  who  ought 
to  have  anything  to  say  on  such  a  matter,"  she  replied. 
"  As  a  stranger,  and  a  very  recent  arrival,  and  "  — 

"  Oh,  you  are  one  of  us,  you  are  one  of  us!"  in- 
terrupted the  deacon,  waving  the  objection  aside  with 
a  gesture.  "  You  don't  have  to  be  naturalized  before 
you  can  vote  on  this  question." 

"  What  question,  please?" 

"Whether  we  will  be  spectators  or  worshipers 
to-morrow." 

"  I  fear  I  shall  have  to  be  counted  among  the 
spectators,  Mr.  Waubertou.  I  am  only  a  sort  of 
pagan,  as  Helen  says." 


130  THE  EOCKANOCK  STAGE. 

"  Lu  !  "  cried  Helen  in  distress,  "  you  know  I  was 
not  in  earnest." 

"  But  I  am  entirely  so,"  said  Lucy  quietly.  There 
was  a  quality  in  the  tone  and  a  look  in  the  eyes  that 
brought  the  conversation  to  a  pause. 

"  We  have  all  been  pagans  together,"  said  Maggie, 
rising  to  go.  "  But  now  we  are  going  to  put  away 
our  idols  and  our  heathenish  rites  and  customs,  and 
try  to  do  as  the  good  missionaries  tell  us,  are  n't  we, 
papa  ?  " 


CHAPTER  X. 

PAGAN   OR   CHRISTIAN. 

ON  her  way  to  her  own  room,  lamp  in  one  hand 
and  mending  basket  in  the  other,  Mrs.  Ashley 
stopped  at  Lucy's  door,  which  was  not  very  tightly 
closed. 

"  Is  there  anything  more  you  wish,  Lu?  "  she  asked 
softly. 

"  Yes,  please,"  said  a  voice  within. 

Mrs.  Ashley  pushed  the  door  open  with  her  foot, 
backed  against  it  to  close  it,  deposited  her  basket  on 
a  chair  and  her  lamp  on  the  table  and  went  to  the 
bedside. 

'•  What  is  it,  dear?  "  she  said. 

"  I  want  to  hug  you." 

"  You  darling  girl !  "  said  Helen,  kneeling  and  laying 
her  face  against  the  soft,  fair  cheek  on  the  pillow, 
while  Lucy  helped  herself  to  the  hug.  "  It  is  such  a 
dfiiiiht  to  have  you  with  us,  and  so  good  in  you  to 
come!  Hut  it  is  dreadfully  selfish  in  me  to  let  you. 
You  will  liud  it  iiisulTenilily  stupid  here.  We  have 
nothing  to  offer  you  ;  no  life,  no  congenial  society  — 
nothing." 

131 


132  TUB  EOCKAXOCK  STAGE. 

"  Do  you  call  this  nothing?  "  said  Lucy,  tightening 
the  hug. 

"  Oh,  you  can't  live  on  that,  you  precious  goosey  ! 
It  will  lose  its  novelty  very  soon,  fascinating  as  I  am." 

"  Tom  doesn't  seem  to  have  tired  of  you." 

"Isn't  he  splendid!"  cried  Helen  with  a  glowing 
face.  "  It 's  a  shame,  though,  to  apply  such  a  hack- 
neyed word  to  him.  He  's  just  the  grandest,  noblest 
fellow  in  the  world." 

"  I  am  glad  you  are  so  happy  together.  Most 
married  people  give  me  the  impression  that  they  find 
each  other  rather  disappointing.  I  am  glad  it  is  not  so 
with  you  and  Tom.  But  you  are  always  teasing  one 
another.  Teasing  seems  to  me  a  strange  way  to  ex- 
press affection  ;  for  of  course  it  hurts,  just  a  little,  to 
be  teased." 

"Tom  doesn't  tease.  He's  full  of  fun  —  brimful 
—  from  morning  till  night;  but  he  doesn't  tease. 
He 's  too  kind  to  do  that.  But  I  'm  not.  I  'm  an 
incorrigible  tease.  I  can't  help  it.  It  is  just  irrepres- 
sible wickedness  in  me.  And,  oh,  dear  Lu  !  it  was 
hateful  in  me  to  carry  on  so  about  that  Mr.  MacWhat's- 
his-name.  I  know  it  vexed  you." 

"Why  —  no  —  it  —  didn't  vex  me  in  the  least. 
Why  should  it?  You  didn't  know  how  I  detest  that 
man,  and  shrink  from  him." 

"  What  makes  you  feel  that  way  about  him?  " 


PAGAN  OR   CHRISTIAN.  133 

"  Nothing  makes  me  feel  it.  I  just  feel  it,  that's  all. 
I  never  met  him  but  that  once,  and  then  I  scarcely 
spoke  to  him  or  saw  him,  and  he  behaved  admirably. 
But  all  the  time  we  were  singing  I  felt  his  eyes.  Do 
you  ever  feel  people's  eyes  ?  " 

"No!" 

"  Well,  I  do,  and  I  felt  his.  I  wanted  to  get  away 
from  him,  and  when  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  him  to-day 
I  felt  as  if  I  saw  an  enemy,  and  almost  as  if  I  were  be- 
ing pursued.  Of  course  it  was  sheer  nonsense,  but  I 
could  n't  bear  it.  I  could  n't  endure  the  thought  of  his 
speaking  to  me  ;  and  I  resolved  not  to  give  him  the 
least  chance  to  do  it,  or  even  to  see  me,  if  I  could  help 
it.  Did  you  ever  hear  of  such  a  ninny?  " 

"No." 

"Well,  I  knew  there  was  just  one  seat  inside,  and 
that  if  I  took  that  before  he  came,  he  would  have  to 
sit  with  the  driver,  and  so  would  not  see  me.  It  was 
dreadfully  hard  to  give  up  all  the  pleasure  of  the  ride, 
especially  the  view  through  the  arch,  of  which  you  had 
written  ;  but  it  was  the  least  of  two  evils.  I  really 
think  the  driver  was  sorry  to  give  me  up  ;  but  he  did  n't 
leave  me  without  entertainment.  His  conversation 
with  Mr.  MacWhiskers,  as  he  called  him,  was  perfectly 
audible,  and,  I  suspect,  was  meant  partly  for  my 
benefit.  But  it  was  unmercifully  aggravating  to  the 
victim.  I  could  n't  help  pitying  him,  much  as  I 
detested  him.  You've  seen  the  creature?" 


134  THE  ROCKANOCK  STAGE. 

"At  a  distance,  yes." 

"  Then  you  know  that  he  is  principally  beard. 
Imagine  him  compelled  to  take  part  in  a  most  serious 
discussion  on  the  subject  of  beard  culture  as  a  branch 
of  industry  !  "  Here  Lucy  reported  the  discussion  at 
length,  while  Helen  held  her  sides,  interpolating 
"Ohs"  and  "Oh,  dears!"  and  wishing  that  Tom 
could  only  hear  it. 

Then  followed,  with  similar  interjections  from  the 
audience,  an  account  of  the  catechetical  exercise  on 
the  subject  of  Tiglath  Pilezer. 

Helen's  convulsions  of  mirth  were  suddenly  stopped 
by  a  faint  sound  in  a  distant  room.  "  There  goes  the 
night  bell !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  Poor  Tom  !  he  hasn't 
been  asleep  half  an  hour,  and  he  is  so  tired ! "  She 
arose  to  go.  "Good  night,  dear,"' she  said  with  a 
kiss.  "  I  must  see  what  is  wanted,  and  whether  it  is 
really  necessary  to  wake  Tom." 

"  Won't  he  wake,  anyway  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no !  I  don't  let  him,  unless  I  know  it  is  un- 
avoidable. The  night  bell  is  to  wake  me  ;  then  I  wake 
Tom,  if  I  think  best." 

"  How  good  you  are  !  " 

"  Nonsense  !  What  is  that  to  do  for  such  a  man? 
There 's  the  bell  again.  I  must  go ;  "  and  she  took  up 
the  basket  and  the  lamp. 

••  Will  you  come  back  to  me  then?" 


OR   CHRISTIAN.  135 


"To-night?" 

"Yes." 

"  No,  child  ;  go  to  sleep.  Look  at  the  clock  there. 
In  half  an  hour  it  will  be  Sunday.  What  else  do  you 
want  to  say  to  me  ?  " 

"  That  at  night,  when  one  goes  to  sleep,  it  is  n't 
nice  to  be  a  pagan." 

Helen  was  already  at  the  door.  "  Then  don't  show 
that  you  are  one  by  laying  up  my  foolish  speeches 
against  me.  There  goes  that  horrid  bell  again.  They 
will  wake  Tom  !  "  and  away  she  went.  Had  she  been 
in  less  haste  she  might  have  noticed  a  little  tremor  in 
tin-  voice,  and  a  certain  gleam  in  the  eyes,  which  would 
have  put  Lucy's  last  words  in  a  different  light.  Yet 
the  pretty  pagan  had  really  no  serious  pain  to  conceal. 
A  single  tear  of  self-pity  stole  out  from  under  the  brown 
lashes  as  they  closed  for  the  night,  arid  that  was  all. 

The  morning  found  her  as  blithe  and  buoyant  as  the 
robins  in  the  garden  ;  and  she  answered  their  vehe- 
ment trills  with  a  soft  little  wordless  song  as  sweet  as 
their  own.  The  morning  toilet  ended,  she  stood  a 
moment  at  the  mirror,  enjoying  the  fair  vision  which  it 
presented  to  her  without  a  taint  of  vanity  in  her  heart, 
but  with  that  delight  in  the  beautiful  with  which  she 
would  have  contemplated  any  other  picture  equnlly 
charming.  Then,  with  a  thrill  of  gratefulness  to  the 
vaguely  apprehended  Power  that  had  bestowed  upon 


136  THE  liOCKANOVK  STACK. 

her,  as  upon  the  lilies  of  the  field,  the  gift  of  outward 
grace,  she  went  to  the  window  aud  threw  up  the  sash. 
No  sound  or  sign  of  human  life  reached  her,  but 
nature  was  radiant  aud  vocal.  The  rich  masses  of 
foliage ;  the  apple  trees  like  mounds  of  white  and 
pink ;  the  great  stretches  of  meadow,  with  the  Onono 
wandering  about  among  the  grazing  herds  ;  the  green 
slopes  of  the  opposite  hills,  with  the  stage  road  zigzag- 
ging up  their  face;  the  pale,  blue  sky,  into  which  the 
belated  moon  was  melting  to  a  film  of  gray  ;  the  bird 
notes  from  every  tree  ;  the  hum  and  rustle  of  the  invis- 
ible myriads  of  living  things  ;  the  ceaseless  undertone 
of  the  waterfall  at  the  mill ;  the  transparency  and 
sweetness  of  the  air ;  the  sunshine  flooding  and  glori- 
fying the  world,  filled  the  maiden's  heart  with  a  great 
joy. 

Then  there  came  to  her  the  question  of  the  stage 
driver — "Do  you  s'pose  any  man  could  stand  here 
five  minutes,  with  his  eyes  and  ears  open,  and  not 
think  of  Him?  Do  you  s'pose  any  woman  could? 
Then  they  ha'n't  got  no  heart ! "  A  momentary 
shadow  seemed  to  fall  over  the  glorified  earth  before 
her,  and  she  turned  away  from  this  window,  and 
crossed  to  the  one  looking  toward  the  east.  Here 
nature  had  less  to  offer  her,  and  man  more.  The  pub- 
lic street  was  visible,  with  persons  passing.  Houses, 
Stores,  church  spires  were  there.  And  at  the  farther 


PAGAN  OR   CHRISTIAN.  137 

side  of  the  garden  appeared  the  gable  of  a  brown  cot- 
tage, with  its  one  window  in  full  view.  And  there 
stood,  apparently  rapt  in  contemplation  of  nature,  a 
gentleman  with  a  very  long  black  beard.  "  Detesta- 
ble !  "  exclaimed  Lucy.  She  was  in  the  act  of  raising 
the  sash,  and  in  the  half  second  or  so  required  to 
finish  that  act,  had  studied  the  situation,  considered 
three  or  four  possible  courses  —  withdrawing  before 
he  should  discover  her,  standing  there  and  ignoring 
him,  etc.,  and  had  decided  what  to  do.  Reaching 
out,  ns  if  pursuing  the  purpose  for  which  she  had 
opened  the  window,  she  closed  the  blinds,  shut  and 
fastened  the  sash,  and  drew  down  the  opaque  shade 
within.  "  There  !  "  said  she,  astonished  to  feel  her 
cheeks  grow  so  hot.  "  That  shall  not  be  opened  again 
till  the  Waubertous  change  boarders !  " 

"  What  you  say,  Aunt  Yucy?"  said  a  small  voice 
behind  her,  and  an  invisible  hand  pulled  at  her  dress. 

"  Margie  !  "  cried  Lucy,  turning  and  catching  up  the 
five-year-old  caller  in  her  arms.  "  Who  knew  you 
were  here?" 

"  I  knewd  it,  and  Rufie  knewd  it,"  said  the  young 
lady,  smoothing  out  her  skirts  with  some  concern,  as 
Lucy  set  her  down,  and  holding  up  a  doll  as  daintily 
dressed  as  herself. 

"  Is  your  dolly  named  Rufie?  Whom  did  you  name 
her  for?" 


138  THE  ROCKANOCK  STAGE. 

44  Why,  Rufe,  don't  you  know,  in  the  Bible?" 
"  Oh,  Ruth,  is  it?     She  was  very  nice." 
44  She  's  my  Sunday  dolly,  Rufie  is.     My  evwyday 
dolly  is  Betsey." 

44  Don't  you  have  the  same  dollies  every  day?" 
44  Oh,  no  !    mamma  would  n't   like  that.     We  have 
evwyday  dollies  an'  Sunday  dollies,  an'  evwyday  play- 
lings  an'  Sunday  playfings,  an'  evwyday  dwesses  an' 
Sunday  dwesses.    All  the  nicest  fings  we  have  Sunday. 
Don't  you  fiuk  Sunday  's  splendid?  " 
44  I  think  this  Sunday  is." 
44  Is  that  your  Sunday  dwess  you  got  on?" 
44  I  don't  know  ;  do  you  think  it  will  do?  " 
44 1  fink  it's  pitty.     But  I  guess  you  better  ask  my 
mamma.     Oh,    I    forgot   soinefin ;    my   mamma   says 
bwekfas  sreddy." 

44  Indeed!    and   do  you    have   nicer   breakfasts   on 
Sunday  than  on  other  days?" 

4k  Course  we  do.  Evwyfing's  nicest  for  Sunday." 
As  they  entered  the  breakfast  room,  Helen,  baby 
May,  and  Ned  formed  a  pretty  tableau  by  the  hearth. 
Ned  was  a  year  older  than  Margie,  but  far  more  difli- 
dcnt.  He  won  Lucy's  heart  at  once  by  saying  as  be 
rather  reluctantly  submitted  to  her  good-morning  kiss, 
44  You've  got  a  light  inside,  haven't  you?  It  made 
the  room  sorter  light  up  when  you  came  in." 

The  doctor  was  not  present.     He  had  returned  near 


PAGAN   OR   CHRISTIAN.  139 

morning  from  a  bard  night's  work  and  was  making  up 
lost  sleep. 

Helen  excelled  in  breakfasts  —  a  rare  talent  among 
housekeepers.  With  her,  that  much-neglected  meal, 
which  so  often  advertises  the  housewife's  slovenliness 
and  incompetence,  was  as  carefully  managed  in  its 
modest  way  as  a  great  dinner  party.  Curl  papers, 
uncombed  hair  hidden  under  a  breakfast  cap,  negligent 
costumes,  defective  cuisine  were  abominations  which 
she  could  not  tolerate.  Though  she  knew  that  only 
her  children  would  enjoy  the  meal  with  her,  her  own 
toik-t  and  theirs  were  always  carefully  made  and  every 
detail  of  preparation  and  service  was  insisted  upon. 
The  appointments  of  the  table — linen,  china,  glass, 
silver —  though  not  luxurious,  were  good  in  quality 
and  tasteful  in  design.  There  were  generally  a  few 
fresh  flowers,  and  always  little  touches  of  the  house- 
wife's hands,  making  all  perfect.  The  table  was  thus 
a  delight  to  the  eye  quite  as  much  as  to  the  palate. 

When  the  doctor  was  absent,  which,  to  her  sorrow, 
was  all  too  often,  Helen  performed  his  duties  in  addi- 
tion to  her  own,  and  with  admirable  grace.  She  was 
a  ready  and  entertaining  talker,  not  because  she  had 
studied  the  art  of  conversation  or  made  any  effort  to 
maintain  it,  but  from  the  spontaneous  flow  of  good 
spirits  and  amiability.  Her  cheek  burned  a  little  as 
j-he  >aid  grace  for  the  first  time  in  her  sister's  pres- 
ence, but  Lucy  thought  it  very  beautiful. 


110  THE  BOCKAXOCK  STAGE. 

"  You  will  feel  yourself  in  a  pretty  small  world 
here,  Lucy,"  she  said  as  she  poured  the  coffee. 

"It  is  the  most  delightful  world  I  was  ever  in," 
Lucy  replied.  "  You  cannot  imagine  how  delicious  it 
is  to  be  in  a  bonajide  home." 

"  But  the  seminary  was  a  home,  so  the  catalogue 
said." 

"  It  has  a  sweet,  motherly  woman  for  its  principal, 
and  plenty  of  sweet,  sisterly  girls  with  some,  like  me, 
not  so  sisterly.  But  no  school  can  be  a  real  home, 
because  a  hundred  girls  cannot  be  a  family,  any  more 
than  a  barrel  of  apples  can  be  an  orchard.  A  home 
must  be  composite  ;  it  must  have  light  and  shade,  pro- 
portion, perspective  —  I  don't  know  how  to  say  it,  but 
I  know  what  it  is  and  what  it  is  not.  Sometimes  when 
I  went  home  with  a  classmate,  or  was  invited  into  some 
congenial  family  in  the  town,  it  was  like  a  little  bit  of 
heaven." 

tk  What  is  a  geen-yul  family?"  asked  Ned. 

"Papa,  mamma,  Ned,  Margie,  baby,  and  me; 
that's  a  congenial  family." 

"  And  Rufie,"  said  Margie. 

"Oh,  certainly;  Ruthie  on  Sunday  and  Betsey  on 
week-days.  What  is  home  without  dollies?  " 

Breakfast  over,  Helen  conducted  family  worship ; 
a  little  nervously,  but  with  admirable  propriety,  Ned 
sitting  on  an  ottoman  at  her  feet  and  Margie  climbing 


PAGAN  OR   CHRISTIAN.  141 

into  Lucy's  lap.  "Dear  Tom  has  to  be  away  so 
much,"  Helen  said,  "and  it  does  n't  seem  right  to  let 
our  family  religion  depend  upon  that.  Do  you  think 
it  should?" 

"  No,  certainly  not;  I  like  your  way  very  much.  I 
could  n't  do  such  a  thing  myself,  but  I  am  glad  you 
can." 

"  I  should  once  have  said  that  I  could  not,  but  I 

> 

can  for  the  children's  sake." 

While  Lucy  was  preparing  for  church,  Margie  again 
presented  herself,  already  fully  dressed. 

"Do  you  go  to  church,  little  Miss  Prim?"  asked 
Lucy. 

"  Course  I  do  !  I  dess  Dod  would  n't  like  it  vewy 
well  if  I  did  n't  come." 

"  Then  I  would  go  without  fail." 

"  I  dess  he  is  n't  spectin  you  ;  is  he?  " 

"  That's  a  question  I  had  u't  asked  myself,  dear." 

"  I  dess  he  '11  be  pitty  glad  when  he  sees  you  come 
in." 

"  Oh,  I  hope  so,  darling,  when  he  sees  the  beautiful 
angel  with  me." 


CHAPTER  XI. 

ON    EXHIBITION. 

T~)OCKBY  was  a  church-going  community,  being 
-L  V  composed  chiefly  of  a  choice  selection  of  New 
England  families  and  those  of  near  or  remote  New 

O 

England  descent.  The  place  was  provided  with  the 
usual  assortment  of  small  churches,  which  contrived 
among  them  to  secure  the  allegiance  of  nearly  the 
entire  population.  Persons  who  were  not  attached  to 
some  congregation  and  not  occasionally  seen  at  the 
Sabbath  services  were  rare  exceptions  :  while  what  is 
known  in  the  great  cities  as  the  "floating  popula- 
tion" did  not  exist  in  Rockby. 

Amid  the  sweet  dissonance  of  the  jangling  bells  the 
people  thronged  the  streets,  exchanging  neighborly 
greetings  as  they  met,  and  each  one  falling  into  the 
particular  sectarian  streamlet  which  flowed  toward  the 
church  of  his  choice. 

The  largest  of  these  streams  made  its  way  to  a  cer- 
tain brick  structure  of  pleasing  exterior,  about  which 
were  hitched  a  score  or  more  of  country  teams, 
interspersed  with  here  and  there  a  more  pretentious 
carriage.  It  was  to  this  edifice  that  the  Ashleys  went, 


0-V  EXHIBITION.  143 

accompanied  by  Lucy,  of  course,  and  followed  at 
some  little  distance  by  the  Wauberton  household. 

Three  objects  of  interest  divided  the  attention  of 
the  congregation  during  the  hour  of  alleged  worship 
which  followed ;  Lucy,  Mr.  MacAllan,  and  the 
preacher,  bearing  importance  in  the  order  in  which 
they  have  been  named. 

Lucy  was  undoubtedly  first.  As  has  already  been 
said,  the  Rockby  public  had  long  been  in  a  state  of 
expectation  and  speculation  over  her  coming,  and 
nothing  that  could  be  learned  or  guessed  concerning 
her  had  been  omitted.  Her  beauty,  her  brilliancy,  her 
fine  education,  her  wealth,  exaggerated  to  at  least 
fifty  times  the  modest  truth,  were  matters  of  common 
fame.  Her  piety,  her  matrimonial  prospects,  her 
probable  relation  to  Rockby  society,  were  fascinating 
problems.  And  now  that  she  was  actually  on  exhibi- 
tion, under  circumstances  so  favorable  both  to  display 
and  to  observation,  it  was  not  to  be  expected  that  any 
•ther  object  would  distract  the  attention  of  the  audi- 
ence. 

It  is  gratifying  to  know  that  the  general  impression 
was  favorable.  People  had  taken  it  for  granted  that 
the  occasion  would  be  felt  by  her  to  be  a  momentous 
one  in  her  career ;  that  she  would  look  forward  to  it 
with  eagerness  and  yet  with  trepidation ;  that  she 
would  neglect  no  effort  to  make  an  impression ;  that 


1  M  Tin-:  UOCKAXOCK 


she  would  be  unable  to  conceal  her  self  -consciousness 
and  even  embarrassment,  grand  as  she  was.  But  of 
all  this  there  was  not  the  remotest  sign.  She  appeared 
to  be,  as  she  really  was,  unconscious  that  the  occasion 
was  exceptional,  or  that  she  was  an  object  of  attention. 
She  was  beautiful  ;  but  her  beauty  was  not'  of  the 
obtrusive  kind.  It  was  a  beauty  which  excited  no 
jealousy,  and  which  drew  attention  away  from  itself 
to  the  finer  qualities  which  underlay  it.  It  demanded 
no  homage,  no  admiration.  Her  dress  was  faultless 
in  taste  but  seemed  a  part  of  herself,  of  which  she 
was  quite  unconscious.  Her  manner  was  attentive 
and  serious,  some  thought  devout  ;  and  the  way  in 
which  little  Margie  nestled  up  to  her  and  drew  from 
her  now  and  then  a  look  of  affection  was  not  lost  upon 
some  of  the  observers.  'k  I  think  we  are  going  to  like 
her,"  was  the  silent  verdict  of  many  a  one  among  them. 
N\-xt  to  Lucy,  Mr.  Allan  MacAllan  was  honored 
with  the  notice  of  his  fellow  worshipers.  His  advent 
among  them,  unlike  hers,  had  been  wholly  unexpected, 
and  created  a  very  different  kind  of  sensation.  He 
had  been  deposited  beard  and  baggage  at  the  hotel 
steps  by  the  Rockanock  stage  during  the  previous 
week  and  seemed  to  have  come  to  stay.  He  had  se- 
cured board  in  a  private  family,  had  opened  a  bank 
account,  had  rented  an  office,  had  made  some  very 
significant  inquiries  about  real  estate,  and  had  created 


OJV  EXHIBITION.  145 

a  general  impression  that  he  was  a  capitalist,  and  the 
representative  of  other  capitalists,  with  whom  it  be- 
hooved every  business  man  in  Rockby  to  be  on  good 
terms.  His  high  breeding,  his  air  of  easy  affluence,  his 
suavity  and  undeniable  good  looks,  were  already  recog- 
nized. It  was  regarded  as  auspicious  of  much  good 
to  the  church  that  he  had  selected  it  as  his  place  of 
worship.  Whether  or  not  he  was  hopefully  pious  was 
not  yet  certainly  known,  though  his  air  was  that  of  a 
believer.  And  when  he  joined  in  the  singing  with  his 
fine  tenor  voice,  those  around  him  almost  stopped  to 
listen,  and  the  Music  Committee  felt  like  voting  him 
an  invitation  on  the  spot  to  transfer  his  talents  to  the 
choir  gallery. 

Let  it  not  be  understood  that  the  entire  congregation 
w:i^  occupied  in  this  scrutiny  of  the  two  strangers. 
Many  did  not  even  know  of  their  existence.  Others 
\\viv  not  aware  of  any  reason  for  noticing  them. 
Others  still  were  at  church  for  too  serious  a  purpose  to 
be  affected  by  any  such  diverting  influence.  But  there 
was  a  considerable  number  who  were  overcome  by  it ; 
and  it  must  be  confessed  that  they  were  for  the  most 
part  among  the  more  influential  members.  There  were 
a  number  of  "leading  ladies"  in  the  congregation, 
those  upon  whom  chiefly  rested  the  responsibility  of 
the  social  life  of  the  parish,  who  could  not  ignore  the 
importance  of  such  an  accession  as  Lucy,  and  to  whom 


146  THE  ROCKANOCK  STAGE. 

her  availability  as  an  attractive  and  propelling  force 
was  a  matter  of  great  moment.  I  take  no  account 
here  of  the  reflections  of  young  men  who  regarded  her 
in  the  light  of  possible  flirtations,  or  of  the  young 
ladies  who  looked  upon  her  as  a  possible  rival.  I 
speak  only  of  those  unworldly  views  which  connected 
her  with  the  interests  of  the  church. 

If  Lucy  chiefly  interested  the  "  leading  ladies,"  Mr. 
Allan  MacAllan  chiefly  interested  the  masculine  "  seven 
pillars,"  more  or  less — the  men  who  managed  the 
church  finances,  and  held  that  such  things  ought  to  be 
managed  on  business  principles,  you  know,  just  as  any 
other  financial  scheme  would  be,  you  know.  To  them 
the  securing  of  such  an  auxiliary  as  this  young  man, 
with  his  presumed  social  standing  and  his  unknown 
fortune,  was  an  opportunity  which  it  were  wicked  to 
neglect. 

Mr.  Allan  MacAllan  was  not  so  unconscious  as 
Lucy  was  of  what  was  in  the  atmosphere  of  the 
church.  He  was  in  Rockby  for  the  purpose  of  mak- 
ing an  impression,  and  intended  to  lose  no  opportunity 
and  neglect  no  means  of  doing  so.  The  good  opinion 
of  his  neighbors  was  so  much  capital  to  him,  particu- 
larly the  good  opinion  of  the  aforesaid  seven  pillars 
and  leading  ladies  of  this  church.  He  deliberately 
placed  himself  on  exhibition,  and  did  not  suffer  him- 
self to  forget  his  position  for  one  moment.  To 


0-V  EXHIBITION.  147 

advance  himself  in  general  estimation,  as  a  means  of 
advancement  in  the  estimation  of  Miss  Lucy  Darling, 
\vas  at  present  the  chief  aim  of  existence  to  him. 
For  this  he  went  to  the  Waubertons  to  board.  For. 
this  he  arranged  his  business  relations.  For  this  he 
selected  his  place  of  worship.  For  this  he  made  his 
Sunday  toilet,  to  the  last  hair  of  his  phenomenal 
whiskers.  For  this  he  ostensibly  worshiped  God  in 
the  use  of  his  very  best  tenor.  Could  he  have  known 
that  Lucy  thought  often  about  him  during  the  service, 
knew  that  he  was  there,  and  had  once  actually  looked 
at  him,  he  would  have  been  beside  himself  with  exulta- 
tion. Could  he  have  known  the  nature  of  her  thoughts 
and  what  was  really  expressed  in  that  one  glance,  he 
would  have  been  in  despair. 

The  next  object  of  interest  to  the  congregation  was 
the  preacher.  And  though  to  a  people  long  ago  hard- 
ened to  the  candidating  process  he  was  less  diverting 
than  the  two  others,  he  undoubtedly  attracted  the 
notice  of  more  persons,  and  secured  the  largest  aggre- 
gate of  attention,  as  he  conducted  the  so-called  wor- 
ship, and  performed  a  literary  and  oratorical  exercise 
supposed  to  be  preaching  the  gospel. 

The  Rev.  Philetus  Dorchison  was  a  truly  pious 
and  conscientious  man.  He  had  entered  the  ministry 
from  the  most  commendable  motives,  and  had  devoted 
himself  to  its  duties  with  rare  zeal  and  success,  la 


148  THE  KOCKANOCK  STAGE. 

the  parish  where  he  had  now  spent  five  laborious  years 
he  had  given  every  proof  of  fidelity  and  ability.  He 
was  studious,  eloquent,  spiritual,  evangelistic,  impress- 
ive as  ;i  preacher,  efficient  as  a  pastor,  beloved  by  his 
people,  and  very  popular  in  the  community.  All  these 
facts  and  many  more  were  known  to  the  people  of 
Rockby  — enough  to  establish  his  fitness  for  any  pas- 
torate in  the  State.  But  the  only  result  which  they  led 
to  was  an  invitation  to  Mr.  Dorchisou  to  preach  in  the 
Rockby  church  as  a  candidate. 

There  were  certain  considerations  relating  partly 
to  health  and  partly  to  the  increasing  disproportion 
between  Mr.  Dorchisou's  salary  and  the  expenses  of 
his  growing  family  —  considerations  entirely  honorable 
to  him  —  which  made  a  change  of  fields  desirable. 
He  detested  candidating,  and  his  brave  little  wife 
rebelled  even  more  than  he  did  against  the  humilia- 
tion. So  far  as  support  was  concerned,  it  was  better 
to  submit  to  any  privation.  She  would  almost  rather 
starve.  But  when  it  came  to  a  question  of  health,  of 
life  and  death  perhaps,  they  must  yield. 

So  he  went.  He  tried  to  feel  exactly  right  about  it ; 
to  maintain  his  self-respect;  to  look  upon  the  parish 
instead  of  himself  as  the  candidating  party.  He 
resolved  to  preach  just  as  he  would  at  home.  He 
prayed  for  grace  to  forget  all  that  was  personal  and 
to  seek  the  highest  ends  of  preaching.  But  his  first 


O.V  EXHIBITION.  149 

look  into  the  faces  of  that  congregation,  with  its 
watchful,  critical  eyes,  putting  into  the  balances  every 
word,  every  tone,  every  gesture,  overpowered  him. 
How  could  he  be  anything  but  self-conscious  and,  so, 
artificial  and  insincere?  And  how  could  they  be  other 
than  unsympathetic  and  unresponsive? 

Subsequent  glances  at  his  hearers,  however,  showed 
him  that  there  were  some  there  who  were  not  mere 
spectators  and  critics.  Among  these  were  to  be 
numbered  the  Wuubertons  and  the  Ashleys,  who  were 
faithfully  carrying  out  the  resolutions  of  the  night 
before,  and  were  find  ing  real  profit  and  enjoyment  in 
the  services.  There  was  another  who,  to  whatever 
extent  she  may  have  responded  to  the  truth  preached, 
felt  a  profound  sympathy  for  the  preacher  and  showed 
it  in  every  line  of  her  face.  He  noticed  her,  and  cast 
glances  at  her  again  and  again  as  he  went  on,  and 
always  met  that  same  eager,  helpful  look.  He  spoke 
of  it  to  Mrs.  Dorchison  after  reaching  home. 

"  I  wonder  who  it  can  be.  Some  young  minister's 
wife,  perhaps,  who  could  put  herself  in  my  place. 
Her  face  was  like  an  angel's  among  the  stolid,  staring 
faces  around  her.  She  seemed  to  be  trying  to  say  to 
inc.  'Don't  l>e  afraid  of  them;  don't  let  them  look 
you  out  of  countenance ;  don't  let  them  freeze  the 
soul  out  of  you  with  their  fey  looks.'  It  was  almost 
as  good  as  having  you  before  me.  She  is  somebody's 
little  saint,  I  know." 


150  THE  EOCKANOCK  STAGE. 

The  Ashleys  all  spoke  appreciatingly  of  the  candi- 
date. "  If  he  is  as  good  as  that  all  the  way  through," 
said  the  doctor,  "he's  a  treasure  for  us  or  anybody 
else." 

"I  have  decided  one  thing,"  said  Lucy;  "I  will 
never,  never  be  a  minister's  wife.  I  am  actually  ex- 
hausted by  the  strain  upon  my  sympathies.  If  he 
were  some  one  that  I  cared  for,  and  I  had  to  go 
through  such  an  agony  of  solicitude  every  week,  it 
would  drive  me  mad." 

"  Pshaw  !  "  said  Tom,  "it's  ten  times  harder  to  be 
a  doctor's  wife." 

"  Oh,  of  course,"  replied  Lucy  ;  "  I  decided  against 
doctors  years  ago." 

' '  Whom  will  you  marry  then  ?  " 

"Marry,  sir?  Who  spoke  of  marrying?  It  is  the 
delusion  of  mankind  that  every  girl  wants  a  husband  ; 
whereas  they  accept  matrimony  with  great  reluctance, 
and  only  under  the  clearest  convictions  of  duty.  For 
my  single  self,  I  propose  to  be  a  nun,  and  secure  a 
permanent  appointment  as  Sister  of  Charity  and 
general  missionary  to  this  family." 

The  doctor's  office  bell  rang  and  he  rose  to  go. 
"You  take  a  great  weight  from  my  mind,"  said  he. 
''A  Sister  of  Charity  would  supply  a  long-felt  want. 
A  lovely  and  pious  young--lady,  willing  to  make  herself 
generally  useful  and  warranted  to  have  no  beaux, 


O.V  EXHIBITION.  151 

would  make  our  cup  of  happiness  full.  I  can't  recom- 
mend the  situation  to  you,  except  to  say  that  it  will 
afford  a  rare  combination  of  usefulness  and  penance." 

"  And  a  chance  to  amend  the  missionary's  opinion 
of  doctors,"  added  Helen  as  he  made  his  exit. 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  of  the  same  day  that 
Margie  sat  on  Lucy's  lap,  holding  her  Sunday  doll  and 
listening  to  a  simple  paraphrase  of  the  story  of  the 
original  Ruth,  occasionally  supplying  details  with 
which  she  was  familiar. 

"Aunt  Yucy,"  said  she,  "is  you  doin  to  live  wiv 
us  frevvernever?" 

"That  is  a  long  time,  Margie,"  Lucy  answered, 
looking  gravely  into  the  blue  eyes. 

"  Is  you?"  persisted  the  child. 

"I  hope  so.  Oh,  I  hope  so,  darling,  for  ever  and 
ever." 


A 


CHAPTER  XII. 

THE    ROCKBY    MAIL. 

N  inscription  in  faint  yellow  letters  on  the  door 
of  the  Rockanock  stage  gave  the  world  notice 
that  this  nondescript  vehicle  was  the  authorized 
conveyer  of  the  United  States  mail.  The  small 
leather  pouch  bestowed  under  the  driver's  legs  was  to 
him  a  momentous  trust ;  and,  in  view  of  its  possi- 
ble contents  and  consequences,  sometimes  filled  him 
with  awe. 

"  Jest  think,"  he  would  say,  "  what  that  air  rusty 
old  bag  's  loaded  with  !  —  love  letters  'n'  dunnin'  letters 
'n'  beggin'  letters,  'n'  news  o'  weddin's,  births,  deaths, 
'u'  accidents,  slander  'n'  soft  soap,  blessin'  'n'  cussin', 
money  'n'  duebills,  presents,  valentines,  invitations, 
praisin'  one  pussuu  an'  sassiu'  another,  makin'  one  laugh 
an'  another  cry,  poppin'  the  question  to-day  an'  fetchin' 
the  feller  the  mitten  to-morrer.  Would  I  like  to  know 
what's  in  it  once?  Not  much.  No  money  wouldn't 
hire  me  to.  I  can  guess  more  'n  I  can  stand,  any 
day." 

.  Possibly  the  reader  may  share  Lezer's  unwillingness 
to  know  the  contents  of  other  people's  letters  ;  but  it 
seems  necessary  to  a  proper  understanding  of  our 

152 


THE  ROCKBY  MAIL.  153 

story  that  the  prejudice  be  so  far  overcome  as  to 
admit  certain  correspondence  of  a  somewhat  confi- 
dential character. 

The  Rev.  Philetus  Dorchison  made  so  favorable  an 
impression  that  he  was  invited  to  come  again,  then- 
again,  and  yet  again.  With  each  visit  the  number  of 
his  admirers  increased,  and  their  favorable  comments 
were'  conveyed  to  him,  directly  or  indirectly,  while 
remarks  of  an  uncomplimentary  character  were  politely 
reserved  for  other  ears  than  his.  Views  concerning 
the  candidate  were  freely  exchanged  by  members  of 
the  congregation  at  their  firesides,  on  the  street,  at 
the  sewing  society,  in  after-meeting  conversations, 
and  in  every  sort  of  casual  interview.  Some  enter- 
tained very  positive  convictions  pro  or  con;  some  were 
undecided ;  some  were  ready  to  acquiesce  with  the 
majority,  and  some  waived  their  own  opinions  in 
deference  to  those  known  to  be  held  by  certain  persons 
who  must  not  be  offended,  as,  for  instance,  the  new 
acquisition,  Mr.  Allan  MacAllan. 

Mr.  Dorchison  had  gone  home,  after  his  fourth 
Sabbath  at  Rockby,  with  the  conviction  that  the 
church  and  society  meetings,  notices  of  which  he  had 
read  from  the  pulpit  on  that  day,  would  vote  him  a 
formal  call  to  the  pastorate.  Mrs.  Dorchison,  who 
kiH-w  her  husband's  merits  far  better  than  he  did,  had 
not  a  doubt  of  it,  and  was  already  planning  for  the 


154  THE  BOCKASOCK  STAGE. 

removal  ami  dreading  the  ordeal  to  which  she  was  to 
be  subjected  as  the  wife  of  the  new  and  popular 
pastor.  Their  present  parishioners  had  taken  the 
alarm,  were  overwhelming  them  with  expressions  of 
affectionate  appreciation,  and  were  prepared  to  enter 
an  earnest  protest  against  their  pastor's  removal 
when  the  expected  call  from  Rockby  should  arrive. 

On  the  following  Thursday  he  came  from  the  mail 
with  a  letter  bearing  the  Rockby  postmark,  which  he 
waved  exultantly  over  Mrs.  Dorchison's  head.  Push- 
ing him  into  a  chair,  and  perching  herself  upon  the 
arm,  she  prepared  to  enjoy  the  triumph  with  him.  The 
letter  was  in  the  usual  form,  certifying  to  the  action 
of  the  church  and  society  in  extending  to  him  a  call 
to  their  pastorate,  and  expressing  the  hope  that  his 
answer  would  be  favorable,  and  that  an  early  day 
might  be  fixed  for  the  beginning  of  his  labors  among 
them.  The  signatures  of  the  two  committees  were 
appended,  headed  by  the  name  of  Dr.  Ashley,  by 
whose  hand  the  letter  was  written.  Accompanying 
the  official  missive  was  a  personal  note  from  the 
doctor,  which  proved  by  far  the  more  sensational 
document  of  the  two. 

My  dear  Mr.  Dorchison, — You  requested,  and 
I  promised,  that  in  case  of  a  call  being  extended  to 
you,  I  would  frankly  inform  you  how  the  vote  stood, 
whether  any  positive  opposition  were  developed,  and 


THE  HOC 'KB Y  MAIL.  155 

whether  it  were  likely  to  prove  troublesome  in  the 
future.  I  trust  that  the  good  sense,  which  led  you  to 
exact  this  promise  from  me,  will  prevent  your  attach- 
ing undue  significance  to  the  facts  stated,  or  making 
them  the  ground  of  declining  our  call.  In  the  church 
the  vote  was  about  three  to  one  ;  in  the  society  it  was 
carried  by  a  majority  of  two.  You  will  perhaps  be 
sui-piised  and  annoyed  at  such  a  result,  but  let  me 
assure  you  that  it  is  a  remarkable  triumph.  You  are 
the  only  man  out  of  more  than  a  score  of  candidates 
who  cuuld  have  secured  any  majority  at  all.  Your 
friends  are  the  cream  of  the  church,  and  though  the 
opposition  includes  some  influential  parishioners,  it  is 
not  vicious,  and  will  readily  disappear  under  your 
wise  management.  In  twelve  months  you  will  have, 
I  feel  sure,  unanimous  and  hearty  support.  Do  not 
refuse  us.  Very  cordially  yours, 

THOMAS  ASHLEY. 

Mr.  Dorchison  hung  his  head  in  mortification.  His 
little  wife  sprang  to  her  feet  with  flashing  eyes,  caught 
the  two  letters  from  him,  crushed  them  in  her  hands, 
and  flung  them  out  of  the  window.  u  A  majority  of 
two  !  "  she  cried  indignantly,  "  for  such  a  man  as  you, 
Philetus  !  and  the  flattering  hope  that  you  will  in  time 
live  down  opposition  !  " 

"I  think,  Nettie,"  said  he  trying  to  smile,  "that 
you  and  I  will  be  a  majority  of  two  in  favor  of  declin- 
ing the  call." 


156  THE  ROCKANOCK  STAGE. 

"  Declining  it!  I  hope  you  will  not  content  your- 
self with  declining  their  insulting  old  letter." 

"  No,  dear.  I  will  do  one  thing  more  ;  I  will  record 
a  resolution  never  again  to  degrade  myself  and  dis- 
honor the  gospel  by  making  a  clerical  showman  of 
myself !  " 

So  the  call  was  promptly  and  definitely  declined, 
though  not  without  some  difficulty  concerning  the 
phraseology  to  be  employed,  especially  in  the  response 
to  Dr.  Ashley's  personal  note.  This  done,  the  Dor- 
chisons  took  up  their  parochial  duties  with  renewed 
satisfaction,  albeit  with  a  sense  of  humiliation.  Their 
parishioners  rejoiced  in  their  victory  over  Rockby,  but 
were  a  little  puzzled  to  account  for  it,  and  inclined  to 
think  somewhat  less  highly  of  their  pastor.  "I  don't 
like  this  coquetting  with  other  churches,"  said  one. 
"If  we  are  not  good  enough  for  him,  why  don't  he 
say  so?  " 

"  He  did  n't  seem  to  take  very  well  over  there," 
said  another.  liThe  call  wasn't  very  unanimous,  I 
hear." 

Within  a  year  Mr.  Dorchison  resigned  on  account 
of  unpleasant  feeling  in  the  parish,  clearly  traceable 
to  the  Rockby  episode. 

The  same  mail  that  brought  Mr.  Dorchison's  letter 
to  Dr.  Ashley,  also  brought  one  from  Major  Gibson 
Concerning  another  candidate. 


THE  ROCKET  MAIL.  157 

Dear  Tom,  —  Mr.  Transington,  one  of  our  special 
set,  has  a  classmate,  a  young  theologne,  named 
Austin,  for  whom  he  is  anxious  to  find  a  settlement  at 
the  West.  Lucy  will  remember  him  as  the  guest  of 
the  Trausiugtons  on  the  last  Sunday  she  spent  here. 
He  is  a  big,  awkward,  homely  fellow,  lame  in  one  leg, 
and  with  no  capacity  for  blowing  his  own  trumpet ; 
but  Transiugton  says  there  is  splendid  stuff  in  him, 
and  is  very  anxious  that  you  should  hear  him,  if  the 
way  is  open.  Should  you  wish  for  further  informa- 
tion, apply  at  this  office.  I  have  exhausted  my  own 
stock,  but  Transington  is  full  of  it,  and  guarantees  an 
A  1  set  of  testimonials,  if  you  are  open  to  conviction. 
Tell  Lucy  it 's  that  poky  chap  that  sang  with  her  on 
Sunday  afternoon.  I  would  give  fifty  dollars  this 
minute  to  heur  them  sing  again,  and  a  hundred  and 
fifty  to  hear  Lucy  alone  —  no  disrespect  to  the  poky 
chap.  I  have  been  a  poky  chap  myself  since  she 
went  away.  Her  visit  was  the  brightest  spot  in  my 
life  for  twenty  years.  If  she  does  n't  promise  to  live 
half  the  time  in  Chicago,  I  will  move  to  Rockby  for 
good  and  all.  Tell  her  —  no,  you  need  n't  —  I  '11  tell 
her  myself.  Love  to  her  and  Helen  and  the  children. 
Yours,  O.  T.  GIBSON. 

"  Love  for  the  rest  of  you,  and  business  for  me," 
said  the  doctor.  "  So  be  it.  It 's  a  kind  of  business 
that  I  am  likely  to  have  enough  of  before  I  'm  done 


158  THE  EOCKANOCK  STAGE. 

with  it.  Here  's  a  promising  candidate  for  you  ;  '  big; 
awkward,  homely,  poky,  lame  in  one  leg,  but  war- 
ranted to  have  splendid  stuff  in  him ! '  Reference, 
Miss  Lucy  Darling,  who  knows  him  thoroughly,  hav- 
ing once  sung  a  hymn  with  him !  What  says  my  fair 
referee  ?  " 

"  She  vouches  for  all  the  qualities  ascribed  to  him 
except  the  splendid  stuff,  of  which  she  has  no  knowl- 
edge. Moreover,  being,  as  before  stated,  a  fair 
referee,  she  deposes  and  says  that  he  impresses  the 
said  referee  as  a  dull  and  uninteresting  specimen  of 
bis  kind,  who  has  probably  mistaken  his  calling." 

"  I  submit,"  said  Helen,  "that  the  impressions  of 
a  referee,  however  fair,  should  not  weigh  against  posi- 
tive testimony.  At  any  rate,  we  ought,  for  the 
major's  sake  at  least,  to  make  further  inquiries  about 
the  man;  yes,  and  hear  him,  too.  Why  not?  Sup- 
pose he  does  n't  succeed  ;  there  is  no  harm  done,  and 
we  shall  have  shown  proper  respect  for  the  wishes  of 
the  major  and  his  friend.  I  say,  let  him  come, 
Tom." 

"He  would  be  a  new  variety,  anyhow,"  said  the 
doctor,  laughing;  "  we  haven't  had  a  lame  one  yet, 
I  believe.  I  will  go  over  and  talk  with  the  deacon 
about  it." 

"  Oh,  dear ! "  sighed  Mrs.  Ashley  as  the  door 
closed  behind  him,  lk  must  we  begin  this  dreary  busi- 


THE  HOC  KB  Y  MAIL.  159 

ness  over  again?  It  drives  poor  Tom  distracted,  and 
all  the  rest  of  us  too.  I  think  Mr.  Dorchison  might 
have  come." 

"  What!  against  the  opposition  of  one  third  of  the 
church  and  nearly  one  half  of  the  society?"  asked 
Lucy.  "  I  am  glad  he  declined  the  call." 

"  I  thought  you  liked  him." 

u  So  I  do,  and  that  is  the  reason  I  don't  want  to 
see  him  suffer  rnartydom.  I  like  him  more  than  ever 
for  his  refusal,  and  would  have  liked  him  better  still 
had  he  declined  to  be  a  candidate  in  the  first  place." 

'  In  which  case  ypu  would  never  have  seen  him, 
and  therefore  could  not  have  liked  him  at  all,"  laughed 
Helen. 

"You  reason  badly,"  retorted  Lucy;  "the  less  I 
see  of  people  the  better  I  like  them,  especially  clergy- 
men." 

"  Now,  seriously,  Lu,  what  plan  would  you  propose 
for  securing  a  pastor  for  a  vacant  church?  for  our 
church,  for  instance?" 

"Well,  if  public  sentiment  permitted,  I  would  seize 
one  by  force.  If  not,  I  would  choose  him  by  lot. 
Either  method  would  involve  risks,  but  nothing  to 
compare  with  candidating." 

"  You  are  a  wicked,  trifling  girl;  but  I  can't  scold 
you  as  you  deserve.  Indeed,  you  almost  make  me 
agree  with  you.  AVhen  Tom  conies  back  I  will  see  if 


ICO  THE  ROCKANOCK  STAGE. 

he  cannot  get  you  appointed  on  the  committee  of 
supply." 

But  the  committee  alluded  to  were  by  no  means  pre- 
pared to  abandon  the  candidating  plan.  The  appear- 
ance of  a  new  clerical  possibility  in  the  person  of  Mr. 
Dudley  Austin  gave  them  fresh  hope,  and  the  next  few 
days  were  spent  in  collecting  information  concerning 
him.  Tbe  result  was  so  satisfactory  that  he  was  duly 
invited  to  put  himself  on  exhibition  in  the  pulpit  as 
candidate  number  twenty-three. 

His  reply  w:is  promptly  received,  and  gave  some 
hint  of  that  stuff  which  his  friend  had  called  splendid. 
It  was  a  courteous  but  explicit  refusal  to  be  a  candi- 
date under  any  circumstances ;  but  proposed  a  more 
rational  and  Christian  basis  of  negotiations.  He 
wrote  :  — 

I  thank  you  sincerely  for  the  invitation,  and  for 
the  very  kind  terms  in  which  it  is  expressed  ;  but  I 
could  not  consent  to  assume  the  attitude  proposed 
even  for  a  single  occasion.  A  position  so  unnatural 
and  so  inconsistent  with  the  true  intent  of  preaching, 
could  result  in  nothing  better  than  a  misrepresentation 
of  both  myself  and  the  gospel.  I  am  at  best  but  an 
uncouth  and  stammering  messenger,  and  my  only  hope 
of  success  lies  in  directing  attention  from  myself  to 
my  message  and  my  Master.  Could  I  justify  myself 
in  turning  a  sacred  service  into  a  personal  exhibition, 


THE  HOC  KEY  MAIL.  ]6l 

which  I  cannot,  I  should  only  empty  my  preaching  of 
all  that  would  save  it  from  your  contempt.  Should 
the  congregation  participate  as  spectators  of  such  a 
performance,  they  would  disqualify  themselves  to 
judge  of  its  merits.  If  we  are  fitted  to  cooperate  in 
Christian  work,  there  must  be  a  way  to  determine  the 
fact  without  committing  sacrilege.  No  doubt  some 
preliminary  acquaintance  is  necessary.  I  enclose  cre- 
dentials as  to  my  character,  my  training  and  fitness 
for  the  ministry,  and  the  quality  of  such  'prentice 
work  as  I  have  thus  far  attempted,  with  the  names  of 
some  well-known  persons,  to  whom  I  am  permitted  to 
refer.  Should  you  so  desire,  I  will  visit  Rockby,  for 
the  purpose  of  mutual  inquiry  and  consultation,  with  a 
view  to  an  engagement,  but  uot  to  preach,  unless  such 
an  engagement  shall  first  have  been  consummated. 
Very  respectfully, 

DUDLEY  AUSTIN. 

The  doctor  read  this  letter  as  he  walked  wearily 
home  on  a  sultry  July  evening.  It  was  like  a  breath 
from  the  north,  and  he  laughed  aloud  with  gratifica- 
tion. 

"Good!"  said  he.  "I  relish  that.  That  sounds 
something  like  it." 

He  met  Squire  Browning,  another  committeeman. 

"See  here,  squire!"  said  he.  u  Here  is  a  letter 
from  our  theologian ;  "  and  he  read  it  to  him. 


162  THE  EOCKAXOCK  STAGE. 

"Sound  sense!"  said  the  squire.  "Tell  him  to 
come  right  along." 

Deacon  Wauberton  was  driving  home  his  cow. 

"  Wait  a  minute,  deacon,"  said  the  doctor;  and  he 
read  the  letter  to  him. 

"  First  rate  !  "  said  the  deacon.  "  Tiptop  !  Just 
my  idea." 

Lucy  sat  on  the  veranda  as  the  doctor  came  up  with 
the  letter  in  his  hand. 

"  Lucy,"  said  he,  "  we  've  found  him  !  " 

"How  fortunate!"  she  s^aid,  smiling  brightly  at 
him,  "and  what  an  exhilarating  effect  he  has  upon  you  ! 
Would  you  mind  telling  me  who  he  is  ?  " 

"A  minister;  a  young  minister;  a  minister  with 
splendid  stuff  in  him  ;  a  minister  after  your  own  heart, 
Lu." 

"  Really,  sir,  in  the  matter  of  young  ministers,  I  — 
are  you  quite  sure  you  know  my  heart,  Tom  ?  " 

"  I  know  your  views  on  one  subject  at  least,  and  he 
entirely  agrees  with  you.  He  will  not  preach  as  a 
candidate.  He  holds  candidating,  as  you  do,  to  be 
absurd,  delusive,  and  sacrilegious." 

"  Bravo  !  Perhaps  you  are  right  about  my  heart, 
after  all.  Is  his  name  a  secret?" 

"  No  ;  Dudley  Austin." 

"  Oh !  " 

"Oh,  what?" 


THE  ROC  KEY  MAIL.  163 

"  Nothing;  ouly  I  can  see  that  he  might  have  rea- 
sons for  not  wishing  to  exhibit  himself." 

"  He  has  ;  and  they  are  reasons  to  which  a  good 
girl  Avill  tuke  no  exceptions." 

"  Your  remarks  are  irrelevant,  sir.  How  about  a 
good  committeeman — a  manager  of  the  regular  Sun- 
day entertainments  of  this  parish?  Surely  this  is  not 
a  candidate  after  your  heart,  Tom?" 

"•  He  is*  Lu.  I  am  henceforth  a  reformed  showman. 
I  am  not  going  to  run  a  ministerial  circus  any  longer. 
I  have  been  heartily  sick  and  ashamed  of  it  for 
months,  and  now  I  am  done  with  it  for  good  and  all." 

"But  what  will  the  good  people  do  without  their 
little  Sunday  amusement?" 

"  They  will  be  just  as  glad  as  I  am  to  see  the  last  of 
it.  And  now  where  's  Helen  ?  "  and  he  went  away  to 
find  her. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

OUR  OWN  CORRESPONDENTS: 

r  I  "lI-IE  doctor  was  right  about  the  verdict  of  the 
J-  parish.  The  infelicities  of  the  candidatiug  33-8- 
tem  had  been  generally  felt  and  were  endured  only  as 
supposed  necessary  evils.  It  was  surprising  to  see  how 
readily  everybody  acquiesced  in  the  new  plan  for 
securing  a  pastor.  A  letter  to  that  effect  was  immedi- 
ately written  to  Mr.  Austin,  by  Dr.  Ashley  of  course. 
It  said :  — 

"  We  like  your  views ;  we  like  your  proposition  ; 
we  like  your  credentials ;  and  we  think  we  shall  like 
you.  Come  as  soon  as  convenient,  prepared  to  stay 
if  it  shall  seem  desirable." 

Mrs.  Trausington  took  part  in  the  correspondence. 
Her  letter  was  addressed  to  Lucy,  and  was  ostensibly 
in  fulfillment  of  a  promise  made  at  the  time  of  Lucy's 
departure  from  Chicago,  but  was  really  a  covert 
attempt  at  interference  with  that  young  lady's  destiny. 

My  dear  Miss  Darling, — I  am  so  ashamed  of 
myself  for  my  long  neglect  after  I  had  given  you  such 
a  solemn  promise.  And  to  think  that  I  have  no 
excuse  in  the  world  except  that  I  have  been  more 
frivolous  and  dissipated  than  ever !  Balls,  parties, 

164 


our.  OWN  COERESPOXDEXTS.         165 

drives,  calls,  bonnets,  dresses  —  oh,  the  pomps  and 
vanities  of  this  wicked  world  !  The  major  is  a  rebuke 
to  us  all ;  so  dignified,  so  noble-minded,  so  every- 
thing a  man  ought  to  be.  I  don't  wonder  you  admire 
him  so  ;  and  if  it  were  not  for  spoiling  you,  I  would 
s:iy  I  don't  wonder  he  adores  you.  You  can't  imagine 
how  he  has  missed  you  !  He  talks  of  you  morning, 
noon,  and  night.  He  is  getting  very  tired  of  hotel 
life.  How  much  he  would  enjoy  a  home  !  and  how 
delightful  he  would  make  it!  and  how  —  well,  I  never 
meddle  with  other  people's  affairs  ;  but  if  I  could  fix 
things  as  I  want  them  and  as  I  think  they  ought  to  be, 
I  know  what  I  would  do,  and  so  do  you.  Now,  don't 
be  vexed  with  me,  for  I  do  love  you  so  much  and  want 
to  see  you  happy. 

What  a  stupid  place  for  you  that  Rockby  is! 
Vi-ry  nice  for  a  few  days  of  summer  rest,  but  for  a 
home  for  such  a  girl  as  you,  why,  it 's  imprisonment, 
it 's  exile,  it 's  being  buried  alive  !  But  we  shall  see 
you  in  Chicago  before  long,  I  know. 

I  hope  the  church  will  like  poor  Austin.  He  's  so 
unattractive  and  peculiar.  My  husband  raves  about 
his  fine  points,  but  I  never  discovered  what  they  were. 
1  suppose  that  Eastern  girl  to  whom  he  is  engaged 
could  enlighten  me.  There 's  nobody  so  horrid  but 
that  some  goosie  will  marry  him. 

What  a  gossipy  letter  I  am  writing!     I  must  stop 


166  THE  EOCKANOCK  STAGE. 

before  I  quite  disgust  you.  Pray  take  your  fill  of 
rural  delights  while  summer  lasts,  but  make  your  plans 
for  an  early  return  and  a  long  stay  in  the  only  city  fit 
to  live  in.  I  know  the  major  is  going  to  urge  it,  for 
he  told  me  so. 

Now  don't  punish  my  negligence  by  a  like  delay, 
but  write  at  once. 

Miss  Louise  Whortle  also  found  it  in  her  heart  to 
indite  a  letter  to  Lucy,  lavishing  upon  it  time,  mental 
effort,  dashes  and  marks  of  emphasis  without  stint. 
Its  point  of  view  differed  considerably  from  that  of 
Mrs.  Transington.  She  wrote  :  — 

My  dear  Lucy,  —  I  can't  bring  myself  to  call 
you  Miss  Darling  —  it  sounds  so  formal  —  and  as  I 
was  saying  to  the  major  to-day  in  a  nice  little  talk  we 
were  having  together  —  you  do  seem  so  like  a  friend 
that  I  have  known  always  —  Besides,  I  want  to  call 
you  a  darliny  in  another  sense  —  Pray  excuse  the  pun. 
The  major  scolds  and  scolds  me  twenty  times  a  day  for 
punning,  and  I  know  it  is  a  perfectly  dreadful  habit  — 
Why  do  you  suppose  I  haven't  written  before?  Just 
because  there  was  positively  nothing  to  write  about  — 
I  ought  to  have  made  you  promise  to  write  first  —  for 
you  must  have  so  much  that 's  interesting  out  there  in 
that  lovely  place  —  The  major  has  told  me  all  about  it, 
over  and  over  and  over  again  —  But  here  in  this  horrid 


OUR    OWN  CORRESPONDENTS.  167 

city  and  this  stupid  old  hotel  nothing  ever  happens  — 
The  major  and  I  were  talking  about  it  to-day  —  and 
we  voted  hotel  life  an  awful  bore —  7s  n't  he  nice, 
though  ?  So  kind  to  me  —  and  everybody  —  But,  dear, 
dear  me  —  the  silly  talk  of  people !  It 's  perfectly 
horrid!  I  don't  see  why  a  gentleman  can't  speak  to  a 
girl  without  setting^  a  lot  of  gossip  going  —  I  hope  to 
goodness  he  hasn't  heard  of  it —  Of  course  we  shall 
never  see  you  again  —  but  don't  forget  us  —  Do  write 
to  me  before  long  —  and  tell  me  about  all  your  picnics 
and  huskings  and  apple  parings  and  all  the  rest.  I  do 
so  love  to  hear  about  country  life.  I  often  and  often 
beg  the  major  to  tell  me  about  it  —  But,  dear  me  — 
this  letter  is  nothing  but  major,  major,  from  begin- 
ning to  end —  Adieu.  Lovingly  yours, 

LOUISE. 

The  threatened  letter  from  the  major  came  in  due 
time.  His  pen  was  not  mightier  than  his  sword,  but 
it  was  of  good,  honest  steel ;  and  though  awkwardly 
handled  and  liable  to  make  havoc  with  the  Queen's 
English,  was  nevertheless  highly  appreciated  by  his 
friends,  particularly  by  Lucy.  For  the  ftrst  time  in 
her  life,  however,  she  now  felt  no  pleasure  at  the 
receipt  of  his  letter.  She  shrank  from  it  and  dreaded 
to  open  it  lest  she  should  discover  some  confirmation 
of  Mrs.  Transington's  impertinent  suggestions.  Con- 
cerning Louise  she  felt  no  uneasiness.  "  He  will 


168  THE  EOCKANOCK  STAHE. 

never  take  such  a  dose  of  insipidity  as  that,"  she 
said  to  herself;  —  "but"  she  tore  the  envelope  and 
read  :  — 

My  dear  Girl,  —  "Pity  the  sorrows  of  a  poor  old 
man,"  solitary  and  homesick,  and  compelled  to  solace 
himself  with  love  letters  and  practical  quotations. 
What  a  fool  I  was  to  let  you  go  so* soon  when  I  might 
have  kept  you  as  long  as  I  liked  !  I  've  a  good  mind 
now  to  assert  my  authority  over  you  and  make  you 
come  straight  back.  What 's  the  use  of  being  guard- 
ian to  a  nice  girl  unless  you  can  get  some  good  of  her 
society?  By  the  way,  did  you  know -you  were  going 
to  be  twenty  this  month,  and  that  in  another  year  you 
would  be  free  from  the  tyranny  of  the  old  despot  that 
has  governed  you  so  long?  Don't  you  crow  yet, 
though.  I  've  made  up  my  mind  to  rule  you  with  a 
rod  of  iron  for  the  next  twelve  months.  So  be  ready 
for  marching  orders  any  minute.  What  sort  of  a 
summer  resort  would  Rockby  be  for  an  aged  single 
gentleman?  Is  there  a  decent  hotel  there?  and  a 
livery  stable?  and  a  barber  that  could  scrape  an  old 
chap's  chin  without  cutting  his  throat?  and  a  sweet 
girl  graduate  who  would  cheer  his  lonely  hours? 

Transiugton  tells  me  that  Tom's  church  has  really 
struck  up  a  bargain  with  the  game-legged  theologue. 
All  right.  Hope  he  '11  prove  a  trump.  Trausington 
thinks  so.  Mrs.  T.  otherwise.  Tell  it  not  in  Rockby, 


OUR   OWN   CORRESPONDENTS.  169 

but  I  'm  inclined  to  bet  with  Mrs  T.  She  's  the  only 
woman  in  our  set  here  that's  got  a  thimbleful  of 
sense. 

Now,  my  dear  child,  if  I  go  to  Rockby  for  a  few 
weeks,  you  '11  come  back  with  me  ?  Of  course  you  will. 
You  've  got  to,  if  I  say  so,  and  I  'in  going  to  say  so. 

"Just  the  same  as  ever  !  "  said  Lucy  when  she  had 
read  and  re-read  the  letter,  and  weighed  all  its  words 
with  care.  i;Just  the  same  as  ever!  I'm  his  dear 
child,  and  his  dear  girl,  and  all  that,  just  as  I  always 
have  been,  and  not  otherwise,  whatever  the  woman 
with  a  thimbleful  of  sense  may  say  about  it."  She 
spoke  with  unnecessary  emphasis,  looking  hard  at  the 
open  letter ;  and,  rising  as  she  spoke,  paced  slowly  up 
and  down  with  her  hands  behind  her  and  the  letter  still 
open  in  one  of  them.  She  watched  the  coming  and 
going  of  the  slippered  feet  as  they  stepped  from  leaf 
to  leaf  along  the  pretty  ferns  in  the  carpet  pattern. 
She  stopped  at  the  window,  looking  out  absently  for 
a  moment  over  the  meadows,  and  knitting  a  faint  sign 
of  perplexity  upon  either  brow.  She  retraced  the 
fern-leaf  walk,  paused  at  the  mirror,  relaxed  the  in- 
cipient frown,  adjusted  a  ribbon,  and  suddenly  flinging 
off  her  reverie  —  whose  secret  let  him  unfold  who  can 
guess  a  maiden's  thoughts  —  went  gayly  off  in  search 
of  Helen. 

The  major's  letter  produced  a  genuine  sensation  in 


170  THE  EOCKANOCK  STAGE. 

the  Ashley  household,  and  he  received  by  return  mail 
the  following  reply  :  — 

YOM  dear  sensible  Major, — You  deserve  to  be 
made  a  general  for  such  a  delightful  proposition. 
Rockby  as  a  summer  resort?  It  is  unrivaled.  For 
aged  single  gentlemen  it  is  Paradise.  It  has  a  first- 
class  hotel — the  hotel  Ashley,  furnished  with  all  the 
luxuries  of  the  season,  including  sweet-girl  graduates 
and  undergraduates.  There  is  a  barber  shop.  Fee  for 
refraining  from  cutting  old  chaps'  throats,  reasonable. 
There  is  a  livery  stable  with  an  aged  single  horse, 
suitable  for  the  aged  single  gentleman  aforesaid. 

As  an  indication  of  the  quality  of  the  patronage 
accorded  this  hotel,  we  are  proud  to  say  that  the 
clergyman,  so  irreverently  alluded  to  by  you  as 
"  game-legged,"  will  be  for  the  present  a  permanent 
guest,  with  rooms  adjoining  your  own.  We  have  not 
ascertained  whether  he  is  a  trump,  as  we  do  not  know 
the  meaning  of  the  term,  but  we  will  ask  him.  Yes, 
sir ;  I  know  when  I  shall  be  twenty,  and  when  I  shall 
escape  despotism.  But  what  of  that?  Even  now,  girl 
that  I  am,  I  dare  defy  the  despot  to  his  face.  Bring 
on  your  orders  and  your  rod  of  iron  as  soon  as  you 
like,  but  be  sure  you  don't  forget  to  come  with  them 
yourself.  You  will  find  me  the  same  docile  and 
obedient  ward  as  ever,  never  refusing  to  do  whatever 
you  command  that  is  according  to  my  own  wishes. 


CUE   OWN  CORRESPONDENTS.  171 

Will  I  return  to  Chicago  with  you  ?  Perhaps ;  per- 
haps not.  Come  and  see.  A  maiden  must  not  be  too 
ready  with  her  Yes  and  No.  * 

Now,  dear,  good  tyrant,  sit  right  down  and  tell  us 
when  you  will  be  with  us,  and  let  it  be  soon,  very 
soon.  Helen  is  writing  ;  so  I  will  leave  her  to  tell  the 
family  news  and  give  the  family  invitations.  I  am 
perfectly  well  and  happy  ;  at  least,  I  shall  be  when 
you  come  ! 

Two  or  three  more  letters  passing  through  the 
Rockby  mail  about  this  time  must  complete  our  quo- 
tations for  the  present.  The  first  is  from  Mr.  Pack  to 
Mr.  MacAllan.  Mr.  Pack  learned  with  dismay  of  the 
major's  intended  sojourn  in  Rockby  ;  for  he  foresaw  in 
it  a  serious  hindrance  to  their  scheme,  if  not  the  actual 
frustration  of  it.  The  guardian  and  his  ward  would 
be  constantly  together,  depriving  the  would-be  suitor 
of  both  pretext  and  opportunity  for  attentions  which 
might  otherwise  be  offered.  The  young  lady's  legal 
protector  would  be  suspicious  of  such  attentions,  were 
they  attempted,  and  would  take  measures  to  prevent 
their  repetition  or  to  neutralize  their  effect.  Then  it 
was  not  unknown  to  Mr.  Pack  that  since  Miss  Dar- 
ling's recent  visit  to  Chicago,  some  regarded  the  major 
himself  as  a  probable  suitor,  if  not  an  accepted  lover; 
a  supposition  to  which  the  journey  to  Rockby  lent 
additional  color.  On  the  whole,  Mr.  Pack  regarded 


172  THE  EOCKANOCK  STAGE. 

the  situation  as  very  serious.  But  like  a  good  lawyer 
he  proceeded  to  prove  the  contrary  and  to  convince 
his  rusticating  client  that  the  advent  of  this  burly 
sentinel  and  possible  rival  was  not  only  favorable  to 
their  scheme  but  a  profoundly  contrived  part  of  it. 
So,  inwardly  cursing  the  major,  and  wishing  he  might 
be  overtaken  by  apoplexy  or  a  railway  collision,  he 
sat  down  and  wrote  to  his  friend  as  follows:  — 

Dear  Mack,  —  You  know,  perhaps,  that  old  Gib- 
son is  coming  out  to  Rockby  for  the  summer ;  but  you 
don't  know  that  it  is  brought  about  by  the  elder's  man- 
agement, to  further  your  suit.  He  saw  long  ago  that 
it  was  absolutely  indispensable  that  you  should  make 
the  major's  acquaintance  under  circumstances  which 
would  enable  you  to  produce  a  favorable  impression 
upon  him,  and  he  has  been  laying  pipe  for  it  for  weeks. 
It  was  no  easy  thing  to  bring  about ;  but  by  little  and 
little,  securing  the  suggestion  of  a  friend  here,  and  the 
advice  of  a  physician  there,  he  has  accomplished  it. 
I  need  not  tell  you  how  important  it  is  that  you  should 
take  the  utmost  advantage  of  it.  The  elder  says  it  all 
rests  with  you  now,  and  that  if  you  only  play  your 
cards  well  with  the  major,  the  game  is  yours. 

Don't  fail  to  keep  me  posted  as  to  the  progress  of 
affairs.  You  say  things  move  slowly.  Yes,  big  things 
always  do,  Mack  ;  and  this  is  a  big  thing.  The  elder 
is  delighted  with  the  way  it 's  working,  and  he  knows 


OUR   OWN  CORRESPONDENTS.  173 

what 's  what.  He  says  he  believes  it 's  all  in  answer 
to  prayer.  He 's  awfully  superstitious,  but  he  can 
work  as  well  as  pray,  as  you  '11  see  more  and  more 
clearly. 

By  the  way,  he  calls  for  a  small  remittance — only 
seventy-five  dollars,  just  to  cover  expenses.  Please 
remit  as  soon  as  possible.  We  must  keep  him  in  good 
humor.  An  order  on  Krauntz  will  answer  every 
purpose. 

Oh,  you  're  a  lucky  dog,  Mack !  Many  a  fellow  I 
know  would  like  your  chance.  Young  Vandernack  has 
just  caught  on  to  this  thing,  and  you  ought  to  have 
heard  him.  Did  n't  he  rave,  though !  Did  n't  he 
abuse  me  like  a  pirate  !  But  I  don't  care  for  that. 
Of  course  I  shall  never  get  any  more  business  out  of 
him  or  his  friends ;  but  that  is  nothing  so  long  as  I 
can  serve  you. 

God  bless  you,  dear  old  Mack !  Mrs.  P.  wishes 
to  be  kindly  remembered  to  you.  We  're  all  doing 
our  best  for  you,  and  you  're  going  to  win.  You 
know  what  a  faint  heart -never  did. 

Yours,  V.  L.  P. 

Had  Mr.  MacAllan  replied  immediately,  and  accord- 
ing to  the  impulse  of  his  feelings,  it  would  not  have 
been  in  the  language  of  grateful  appreciation.  In  the 
privacy  of  his  own  room  he  indulged  sub  voce  in  an 
exercise  much  after  the  style  of  his  fictitious  corapeti- 


174  THE  EOCKAXOCK  STAGE. 

tor,  3'oung  Vanclernack,  as  described  by  that  gentle- 
man's inventor.  He  even  poured  out  his  wrath  in  a 
four-page  letter  to  Pack,  in  which  he  invoked  destruc- 
tion upon  old  Gibson,  and  perdition  on-  the  hypocritical 
idiot  who  had  been  at  such  paius  and  expense  to  bring 
about  the  worst  thing  that  could  be  imagined.  But 
the  letter  was  laid  aside  for  a  day,  then  rewritten  in 
milder  language,  held  for  further  consideration,  and 
finally  destroyed.  He  could  not  afford  to  quarrel  with 
either  Mr.  Pack  or  the  elder.  Perhaps  the  latter  was 
right ;  wait  and  see.  The  major's  coming  could  not 
now  be  prevented,  and  might  prove  advantageous. 
Meantime,  things  were  happening  which  greatly  en- 
couraged Mr.  Mac  Allan,  as  he  shall  explain  in  a  letter 
dated  some  ten  days  later  than  Mr.  Pack's. 

Dear  Velucius,  —  Your  letter  sorely  tested  my 
faith.  At  first  I  felt  sure  that  the  elder  had  made  a 
serious  if  not  a  fatal  blunder.  Major  Gibson  was  the 
last  man  whom  I  wanted  to  see  in  Rockby.  But  I 
tried  to  believe  that  you  were  right,  as  you  generally 
are,  and  now  I  feel  sure  that -you  were.  I  could  not 
expect  in  the  next  few  weeks  to  gain  any  recognized 
standing  as  a  suitor,  but  my  chances  for  a  preliminary 
acquaintance  will  be  improved  rather  than  otherwise 
by  the  old  gentleman's  presence.  He  is  here  already, 
and  I  have  not  only  met  him  socially,  but  he  has  been 
more  than  once  in  my  office.  We  have  smoked  several 


OUR   OWN  CORRESPONDENTS.  175 

cigars  together,  and  are  likely  to  have  business  rela- 
tions in  connection  with  some  land  that  he  owns  in 
this  county. 

You  will  not  think  me  vain,  old  friend,  when  I 
say  that  my  social  and  commercial  standing  here  is 
very  flattering.  I  cannot  conceal  from  myself  the 
fact  that  people  here,  not  excepting  the  very  cream 
of  society,  are  disposed  to  treat  me  with  the  highest 
consideration.  I  attend  the  leading  church  in  the 
place,  not  because  it  is  the  leading  church,  though 
that  is  an  advantage,  but  because  it  is  attended  by 
the  A.'s,  and  therefore  by  L.  D.  I  am  even  consulted 
on  parochial  business.  For  instance,  they  have  just 
been  getting  a  new  minister.  You  would  n't  think  my 
advice  worth  much  on  that  subject,  but  they  did. 
You  'd  think  they  took  me  for  a  theological  expert. 
Well,  I  was  pretty  glad  of  it,  for,  to  tell  the  truth,  I 
felt  a  little  uneasy  about  that  minister  business.  I 
know  how  a  woman  worships  intellect  and  character, 
real  or  imaginary,  and  I  was  afraid  some  brilliant, 
young,  clerical  bachelor  would  come  in  with  his  col- 
lege airs  and  his  fine  rhetoric  and  cut  me  out  before 
I  had  a  chance  to  do  anything  for  myself.  But, 
providentially,  —  I  really  think  it  was,  —  they  got  hold 
of  a  man  who  is  warranted  to  be  harmless :  first, 
because  he  is  as  unattractive  personally  as  a  gorilla ; 
and  secondly,  because,  wonderful  to  relate,  he  is 


176  THE  ItOCKAXOCA'  STAGE. 

engaged  to  be  married!  Wasn't  thai  luck?  I  tell 
you,  I  went  in  for  him  strong.  And  I  'in  inclined  to 
think  my  opinion  turned  the  scale.  At  any  rate,  they 
have  engaged  him  for  a  year,  without  so  much  as 
hearing  him.  He  is  to  board  at  Dr.  A.'s;  that's  luck 
again.  Do  you  think  I'll  cultivate  him  for  all  he's 
worth?  Do  you  think  I  shall  have  occasion  to  call 
on  him  frequently,  and  sometimes,  possibly,  when  I 
know  he  is  n't  in  ? 

I  am  getting  some  business  here,  and  have 
actually  made  two  or  three  quite  respectable  little 
commissions  on  real  estate  transfers. 

I  enclose  the  order  on  Krauntz,  as  you  request. 
The  elder  is  a  pretty  expensive  luxury ;  but  if  I  win 
my  prize  before  he  bankrupts  me,  I  won't  complain. 

Yours,  MACK. 

Mr.  Pack  promptly  replied  :  — 

Dear  Mack,  —  What  a  lucky  fellow  you  are !  I 
felt  at  first,  I  confess,  a  little  as  you  did  about  send- 
ing old  G.  up  there,  and  even  expostulated  with  the 
elder  about  it.  But  it  is  plain  enough  now  that  he 
was  right,  as  he  generally  is.  Maybe  he 's  right  about 
the  prayer,  too.  Don't  you  call  him  an  expensive  lux- 
ury, my  dear  boy.  He's  the  very  opposite;  a  cheap 
necessity,  so  far  as  you  and  your  plans  are  concerned. 

He  and  I  both  think  you  ought   to   have   a   horse 


OUR   OWN  CORRESPONDENTS.  177 

and  buggy ;  nothing  showy,  or  fast,  or  anything  of 
that  sort,  but  a  good,  respectable  rig,  you  under- 
stand, that  you  keep,  of  course,  for  business  purposes 
strictly,  but  which  may  possibly  prove  available  for  a 
short  drive  with  a  young  lady  now  and  then.  Better 
attend  to  it  at  once.  If  you  can't  get  what  you  want 
there,  we  will  pick  you  up  something  suitable  and 
send  it  out  to  you.  As  ever, 

V.  L.  P. 

P.  S.  —  Did  you  get  a  grumbling  .  letter  from 
Krauntz?  Probably  you  could  n't  read  it  if  you  did. 
But  don't  mind  his  growls,  though  it  thunders  and 
lightens  in  low  Dutch  all  round  you.  Keep  the  peace 
with  him.  Let  me  manage  him;  you'll  need  him  for 
some  time  yet.  And  he  needs  you,  too.  That 's 
where  you  've  got  him.  He  and  I  are  fixing  up  a  nice 
little  scheme  for  putting  a  cloud  on  the  Ottway  tract. 
Promises  to  be  a  big  thing.  We  '11  give  you  a  chance 
to  take  a  hand  in  it  before  long. 

V.  L.  P. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

SPLENDID    STUFF. 

MR.  DUDLEY  AUSTIN'S  first  public  service  in 
Rockby  was  a  momentous  occasion  to  both 
his  congregation  and  himself.  Although  he  had  car- 
ried his  point  concerning  candidacy,  and  was  already 
their  accepted  pastor,  —  or  rather,  as  Deacon  Wauber- 
ton  more  accurately  expressed  it,  their  "stated  sup- 
ply,"—  yet  he  was  by  no  means  to  escape  the  embar- 
rassments of  a  first  appearance.  As  to  his  hearers, 
many  of  whom  had  never  before  seen  him,  they  met 
him  with  a  curiosity  even  more  eager  than  it  would 
have  been  had  his  effort  been  purely  experimental. 

All  Rockby  was  moved.  The  church  was  thronged 
with  an  audience  outrivaling  the  feast  in  the  parable. 
The  regular  guests,  with  one  consent,  waived  all 
excuses  and  came,  while  the  highways  and  hedges 
yielded  their  full  quota  besides.  Every  pew  was  filled, 
first  comfortably,  then  uncomfortably.  The  ushers 
tiptoed  up  and  down,  beckoning  hesitant  strangers, 
and  bringing  to  bear  upon  the  saints  the  sever- 
est tests  of  their  compressibility  and  their  virtue. 
The  air  grew  heavy ;  faces  flushed  with  excitement 
and  summer  heat;  fans  rustled.  Children  gave  pre- 
178 


SPLENDID   STUFF.  179 

monitory  outcries 'of  impatience.  The  sexton  with 
his  long  hook  pulled  down  the  upper  sashes  of  the 
windows,  amid  much  gratuitous  advice,  pro  and  con, 
from  neighboring  worshipers.  The  choir,  anthem 
books  in  hand,  performed — by  duets,  by  trios,  by 
quartets  —  the  usual  prelude  of  whispers,  giggles,  and 
responsive  glances. 

Mr  MacAllan  sat  in  the  "Wauberton  pew,  Maggie 
blushing  on  his  right,  the  deacon  smiling  on  his  left, 
and  the  vast  expanse  of  shiny  black  beard  serenely 
falling  over  his  breast.  The  Ashleys  and  their  guests 
were  full  of  the  excitement  of  the  occasion.  The 
major  felt  a  little  responsibility  in  having  introduced 
the  preacher  to  his  flock.  The  doctor  felt  more,  in 
having  conducted  the  negotiations.  Helen  sympa- 
thized with  both  of  them,  and  with  the  preacher  him- 
self, whom  they  all  began  to  like  in  spite  of  his 
uncotithness. 

Lucy,  as  the  "•  fair  referee,"  could  not  regard  her- 
self as  having  promoted  the  arrangement,  but  was 
thankful  that  she  had  not  hindered  it.  Her  first 
prejudice  aguinst  Mr.  Austin  seemed  to  her  upon 
reflection  utterly  unreasonable,  and  her  thoughtless 
expression  of  it  unjust  and  inexcusable.  She  blamed 
herself  severely  for  it,  and  resolved  to  put  it  out  of 
her  mind,  and  to  make  up  an  unbiased  opinion  of  him, 
based  upon  actual  acquaintance.  She  even  felt  almost 


180  THE  ItOCKANOCK  STAGE. 

obliged  to  like  him,  as  an  atonement  for  her  former 
injustice.  The  task  did  not  prove  so  difficult  as  she 
had  imagined.  She  had  a  high  regard  for  intellectual 
force,  and  for  the  ingenuous  and  the  genuine  in  char- 
acter ;  and  these  she  found  under  the  diffidence  and 
awkwardness  of  Mr.  Austin.  His  very  uncouthness 
appealed  to  her  sympathy,  just  as  his  lameness  did, 
and  moved  her  to  greater  generosity.  Her  gracious 
and  respectful  kindness  toward  him  surprised  Helen 
and  filled  him  with  grateful  pleasure.  He  did  not 
wonder  that  such  a  woman  should  win  an  old  major's 
heart,  as  Mrs.  Transington  and  his  own  eyes  had  in- 
formed him  was  the  case.  He  hoped  that  after  they 
were  married  they  might  always  be  his  parishioners. 

Lucy,  on  her  part,  inwardly  congratulated  "  that 
Eastern  girl "  with  whom  Mrs.  Transington  had  con- 
nected him,  and  resolved  to  champion  him  for  her 
sake,  partly  because  she  was  an  Eastern  girl,  partly 
because  she  had  the  courage  to  like  an  ungainly  fellow 
with  good  stuff  in  him,  and  partly  because  Mrs. 
Transington  had  called  her  by  implication  a  "  goosie" 
therefor.  "How  would  the  poor  girl  feel,"  thought 
Lucy,  "if  she  were  here  to-day  to  see  her  hero  pass 
through  this  fiery  ordeal  ?  I  will  try  to  see  him  through 
her  eyes,  and  be  as  indulgent  toward  his  faults  and  as 
appreciative  of  his  merits  as  if  I  were  Miss  Goosie 
herself." 


SPLENDID  STUFF.  181 

And  now  the  ordeal  is  at  hand.  As  the  notes  of  the 
organ  are  sounded,  all  eyes  are  turned  toward  the 
narrow  door  at  the  right  of  the  pulpit,  through  which, 
week  by  week  during  the  past  twelve  mouths,  they 
have  been  wont  to  see  the  reverend  martyrs  and  glad- 
iators enter  the  arena.  He  is  neither  martyr  nor  glad- 
iator who  enters  now,  though  he  is  pale  enough  for  the 
one  and  massive  enough  for  the  other.  "  Big,  awk- 
ward, homely !  "  The  major  repeats  the  epithets  of 
his  letter  of  recommendation,  and  concludes  that  he 
cannot  retract  one  of  them.  The  lameness  is  palpable 
enough,  but  not  conspicuous  —  barely  sufficient  to 
aggravate  other  disabilities.  Evidently  the  man  him- 
self is  not  at  all  embarrassed  by  it.  lie  does  not  seem 
to  be  even  conscious  of  it.  In  truth,  Mr.  Dudley 
Austin  is  at  this  moment  more  free  from  painful  self- 
consciousness  than  his  audience  would  believe  possible 
in  the  circumstances.  He  has  dreaded  the  occasion, 
and  wondered  much  how  he  was  ever  going  to  get 
through  with  it.  He  knows  all  his  own  disadvantages, 
and  could  add  many  a  disparaging  epithe't  to  the 
major's  list.  But  now  that  his  hour  is  come  he  is  full 
of  courage  and  even  of  exultation.  He  stands  on  the 
threshold  of  the  work  which  has  been  his  dream  and 
hope  through  ten  years  of  weary  study.  "  At  last !  " 
he  says  to  himself.  "  This  is  God's  altar  at  which 
I  am  to  serve.  This  is  my  people,  for  whose  souls  I 


182  THE  ROCKANOCK  STAGE. 

aru  to  watch  and  work,  and  give  account.  To  these 
men  and  women  I  am  to  be  priest,  teacher,  counselor, 
leader,  shepherd,  example.  Here  I  am  to  deal  with 
the  high  things  of  God,  and  with  the  sacred  and  endur- 
ing things  of  the  human  soul.  Who  is  fit  for  such 
a  service  ?  Whose  hands  are  clean  enough  ?  Whose 
heart  is  holy  enough  ?  " 

The  thought  is  overpowering.  For  one  moment  the 
pale  face  is  hidden  ;  then  it  is  lifted  toward  the  con- 
gregation, flushed,  eager,  and  confident.  Those  who 
have  come  prepared  to  offer  sympathy  to  a  bashful 
beginner  in  pulpit  oratory  find  no  demand  for  their 
services.  Those  who  suppose  themselves  to  be  spec- 
tators of  an  introductory  effort  —  a  homiletical  trial 
trip  —  soon  discover  their  mistake.  With  the  first 
word  of  the  brief  invocation,  the  ministry  of  Dudley 
Austin  has  begun  in  earnest.  There  is  diffidence  in- 
deed, and  sincere  humility  ;  but  there  is  also  a  moral 
fervor  which  makes  itself  felt  in  every  earnest  soul 
before  him.  The  prayers  are  not  fluent ;  the  hymns 
are  poorly  read  ;  the  voice  is  husky  and  inflexible,  and 
does  not  readily  adjust  itself  to  the  acoustic  conditions 
present.  But  all  is  somehow  forceful  and  impressive. 

And  now  for  the  sermon.  Shall  it  be  the  choicest 
of  the  seminary  stock ;  the  one  that  the  professor  of 
homiletics  revised  so  carefully,  and  which  the  class 
pronounced  a  masterpiece  ?  No  ;  it  is  one  that  neither 


SPLENDID   STUFF.  183 

class  nor  professor  ever  heard  of ;  a  discourse 
wrought  out  on  the  ground  under  the  influence  of  his 
present  surroundings,  and  with  reference  to  his  pres- 
ent flock.  Shall  it,  then,  have  especial  reference  to 
this  occasion  ?  —  a  discussion  of  the  Nature  of  the  Pas- 
toral Office,  or  the  Constitution  of  the  Church,  or  the 
Present  Religious  Condition  of  Rockby,  closing  with 
some  modest  personal  allusions  and  salutations?  No ; 
it  has  not  a  hint  of  anything  personal  or  special  in  it. 
Its  scope  is  as  broad  as  that  of  religion  itself.  "  The 
Father  himself  loveth  you."  That  is  the  text.  The 
plan  of  the  sermon  is  as  simple  as  the  text  is  familiar. 
It  is  little  more  than  the  unfolding  and  illumination  of 
the  two  words  Father  and  Love;  yet  it  seems  as  if  the 
light  of  all  truth  is  focused  upon  them.  The  sermon 
is  in  manuscript,  and  the  ink  on  its  closing  pages  is 
hardly  dry.  But  it  has  come  from  a  glowing  heart, 
and  the  fires  in  which  its  thoughts  were  forged  are 
burning  yet.  At  first  the  reading  is  slow,  hesitant, 
monotonous.  Soon  it  grows  more  fluent.  The  voice 
gains  clearness  and  flexibility,  and  in  certain  passages 
takes  on  that  supreme  quality  sometimes  termed  the 
magnetic.  The  homely  face  kindles ;  the  gestures,  if 
not  graceful,  are  free  and  effective  ;  the  man  is,  in  his 
o\vu  unstudied  way,  really  eloquent. 

Lucy,  listening  to  the  sermon  not  for  herself  but  for 
that  anonymous  "  Eastern  girl"  in  whose  place  she  is 


184  THE  EOCKANOCK  STAGE. 

trying  to  put  herself,  is  profoundly  moved  by  it,  and 
in  her  vicarious  capacity  feels  proud  of  Miss  Goosie's 
hero.  "  I  wish  she  were  here  to  enjoy  his  success," 
she  thinks,  "  and  to  praise  him  for  it,  and  —  oh,  de:ir 
me  !  —  to  tell  him  of  some  of  those  mannerisms  which 
will  be  sure  to  break  the  force  of  his  grand  thoughts 
upon  unsympathetic  hearers ! "  She  is  herself  so 
intensely,  though  vicariously,  sympathetic  that  all  her 
soul  seerns  to  be  looking  out  of  her  face  as  the 
speaker,  in  a  chance  uplifting  of  the  eyes,  catches  a 
sudden  glimpse  of  it  amid  the  sea  of  faces  before  him. 
He  does  not  trust  himself  to  glance  that  way  again, 
but  the  image  of  that  eager  face  is  a  fresh  inspiration 
to  him  as  he  goes  on  with  his  sermon. 

"  How  do  you  like  him?"  was  the  question  asked  by 
a  score  of  suppressed  voices  at  once,  the  moment  the 
service  was  over  ;  and  the  answers  ran  :  — 

"  Oh,  well  enough." 

"Don't  know  yet." 

"Tonguy,  isn't  he?" 

"Guess  he'll  do." 

"  Seems  to  be  orthodox." 

"  Not  much  polish." 

"  Good,  plain  sense." 

"  Don't  look  as  I  expected." 

"  Never  '11  set  the  world  afire." 

"  Good  sermon  for  old  Pollax." 


SPLENDID   STUFF.  185 

"Yes,  and  for  you  and  me  too." 

Yet  some  eyes  were  gleaming,  some  hands  pressed 
one  another  in  silence  as  people  met. 

Half  a  dozen  persons  from  various  parts  of  the 
house  made  their  way  through  the  crowded  aisles  to 
the  pulpit,  to  speak  with  the  new  preacher.  There 
\\us  Mr.  Solomon  Drabsider,  the  editor  of  The  Rockby 
Interview,  who  wished  to  secure  the  manuscript  for 
publication,  along  with  a  biographical  sketch  of  the 
"'reverend  gentleman,"  its  author.  There  was  the 
pompous  and  patronizing  Squire  Mycopp,  who  knew 
the  Transiugtons,  and  had  been  specially  requested  to 
show  Mr.  Austin  some  civility.  There  were  two  or 
three  official  members  of  the  church  who  would  ex- 
change salutations  with  the  new  pastor,  or  speak  some 
word  of  genuine  gratification. 

And  there  was  Mr.  Charles  Erasmus  Argyle,  com- 
monly called,  according  to  the  Western  fashion  of 
denominating  schoolmasters,  Professor  Argyle,  the 
principal  of  the  Onouo  Literary  and  Classical  Institute. 
lie  was  a  prim  little  man,  perhaps  fifty-five  years  old, 
with  a  cheery-looking  face,  embellished  with  a  thin  tuft 
of  gray  whiskers  on  either  cheek.  His  eyes  were 
small,  his  nostrils  thin,  and  his  lips  thinner  yet.  His 
black  suit  gave  more  evidence  of  care  than  of  recent 
manufacture.  His  hands  were  encased  in  black  kids. 
In  the  left  he  carried  a  white  hat  with  a  broad  band  of 


186  THE  EOCKANOCK  STAGE. 

crape  around  it.  The  right  he  extended  stiffly  to  the 
young  preacher,  just  descending  the  pulpit  stairs. 

"  Mr.  Austin,  I  suppose?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  Professor  Argyle." 

"Ah!  very  happy ^to  meet  you,  professor.  Hope 
you  're  well,  sir." 

"Much  as  usual,  thank  you.  Allow  me,  Mr.  Aus- 
tin, a  friendly  suggestion  or  two,  which  I  think  will  be 
of  service  to  you." 

"  Why,  certainly ;  it  would  be  a  great  favor,  I 
assure  you." 

"  Well,  it  would  at  least  be  Scriptural.  The  apos- 
tle says,  '  Let  him  that  is  taught  in  the  word  commu- 
nicate unto  him  that  teacheth  in  all  good  things.'  " 

"  Indeed,  sir.  I  shall  be  more  happy  to  be  taught 
than  to  teach,  and  it  will  seem  more  natural  to  me. 
I  have  been  under  tutors  and  professors  so  long  that 
I  really  feel  lost  without  them." 

The  young  man's  readiness  to  be  criticised  was  dis- 
appointing to  the  professor.  He  would  have  enjoyed 
the  operation  better  with  a  more  sensitive  patient ; 
still  he  had  hopes  of  making  it  interesting. 

"My  young  friend,"  said  he  in  a  whisper,  seeing  the 
editor  approaching,  "there  are  certain  infelicities  of 
manner  "  — 

"  I  am  painfully  aware  of  them,  Professor  Argyle." 


SPLENDID   STUFF.  187 

"  Ah !  "  said  the  professor,  further  disconcerted 
by  this  frauk  admission,  which  seemed  to  make  a 
specification  of  the  "  infelicities"  in  question  un- 
necessary. 

"  Oh,  yes  !  "  resumed  his  intended  victim  with  ani- 
mation, "I  know  them  all  by  heart;"  and  he  began 
to  tell  them  off  upon  his  fingers.  "  Too  closely  con- 
fined to  my  notes  ;  making  -  pump-handle  gestures  ; 
shrugging  my  shoulders  ;  nodding  to  my  manuscript ; 
gesticulating  with  my  eyebrows,  and  soon.  There  's  a 
long  list  of  them.  Howr  the  fellows  used  to  drub  me 
for  them  !  It 's  like  old  times  to  hear  you  mention 
them." 

"I  haven't  mentioned  them,"  said  the  baffled  pro- 
fessor. Nor  did  he  succeed  in  doing  so,  but  was  fain 
to  cover  his  defeat  by  introducing  Mr.  Drabsider,  the 
editor,  who  now  presented  himself. 

"  I  desire  to  congratulate  you,  reverend  sir,"  said 

^ 
the  grandiloquent  editor,  *'  upon  your  splendid  effort. 

Such  profound  thought,  such  lucid  argument,  such 
felicitous  diction,  such  —  ah  !  here  is  our  distinguished 
fellow  citizen,  Squire  Mycopp.  Good  morning,  squire  ! 
Allow  lue  the  pleasure  of  presenting  you  to  our  eloquent 
young  pastor,  Mr.  Austin.  Thus  law  and  gospel, 
preaching  and  practice,  are  brought  together  through 
the  medium  of  the  press." 

Squire  Mycopp  ignored  the  editor  and  his  thread- 


188  THE  EOCKANOCK  STAGE. 

bare  wit,  and  faced  Mr.  Austin  as  he  would  a  witness 
whom  he  wished  to  overawe  in  court. 

"  I  have  heard  the  Transingtons  speak  of  you,"  he 
said. 

u  They  are  very  dear  friends,'*  replied  the  preacher, 
"  and  it  will  be  a  pleasure  to  enjoy  the  acquaintance 
of  one  who  knows  them." 

"  Don't  be  too  sure  of  that,"  said  the  squire.  "  I 
am  not  at  all  of  your  way  of  thinking,  theologically, 
Mr.  Austin,  though  I  will  do  you  the  justice  to  admit 
that  the  sermon  you  have  just  preached  would  pass 
with  us  fairly  well.  So  far,  so  good.  I  rejoice  in 
every  sign  of  growing  liberality  among  orthodox  sects. 
We  shall  get  you  all  sooner  or  later." 

"  I  assure  you,  Mr.  Mycopp,"  began  the  preacher. 

"Yes,  yes;  I  know  what  you  are  going  to  say," 
rejoined  the  lawyer.  "  Of  course  you  wanted  to  draw 
it  mild  at  first.  You  've  got  all  the  old  dogmas  in 
stock,  I  don't  doubt  that.  Y\m  could  n't  hold  your 
position  here  without  them." 

"  Squire  Mycopp  "  — 

But  the  lawyer  cut  the  matter  short.  "  Let  us  call 
the  case  closed  for  the  present.  My  family  are  wait- 
ing for  me  in  the  vestibule.  Good  day,  sir  ; "  and  he 
bowed  himself  away. 

Then  the  official  members  came  up  and  recited  the 
usual  complimentary  formulas.  Oue  "  liked  the  ser- 


SPLENDID  STUFF.  189 

mon   very  much"  ;  another  "  enjoyed  it  very  much"  ; 
and  another  was  "  very  much  interested." 

By  the  time  the  preacher  had  escaped  from  the 
interviewers,  his  exhilaration  had  been  thoroughly 
taken  out  of  him  and  a  depression  of  corresponding 
intensity  had  seized  upon  him. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

SATIRE    AND    SINCERITY. 

WHERE  was  now  the  romance  of  pastoral  life 
which  had  filled  Dudley  Austin  with  such  en- 
thusiasm? Where  was  the  glow  of  feeling  under 
which  the  sermon  had  been  written?  and  the  fervor 
and  unction  with  which  it  had  been  delivered?  Where 
was  the  responsive  feeling  which  he  had  imagined  to 
be  enkindled  in  the  hearts  of  the  congregation  ?  One 
hearer  had  been  impressed  only  by  the  speaker's- 
awkwardness  ;  another  had  totally  misunderstood  his 
meaning ;  another  was  moved  to  offer  the  most  nau- 
seating flattery  ;  others  still  had  repeated  stereotyped 
compliments  which  might  or  might  not  be  sincere. 

"As  to  the  rest  of  the  congregation,"  he  said  to 
himself,  "some  may  be  found,  no  doubt,  like  each  of 
these ;  some  are  in  moods  still  more  discouraging,  and 
the  rest  are  utterly  indifferent." 

He  pocketed  the  now  detested  sermon,  picked  up  his 
hat  and  cane,  and  limped  wearily  homeward.  H«d  he 
mistaken  his  calling?  He  feared  so,  at  least  so  far  as 
this  people  were  concerned.  How  could  he  face  them 
again  that  evening,  and  the  next  Sunday,  and  the 
next,  and  the  next,  for  a  whole  year?  He  was  thank- 

190 


SATIRE  AND   SINCERITY.  191 

ful  that  it  was  for  no  more  than  a  year.  A.nd  pechaps 
some  merciful  sore  throat  or  brain  fever  might  shorten 
the  agony  for  him  !  Or  the  people  might  tire  of  him 
and  contrive  a  way  to  be  rid  of  him  before  the  time 
expired  !  The  thought  was  a  relief.  Even  that  would 
be  better  than  a  year  on  the  rack  ! 

His  course  led  him  past  the  livery  stable,  which, 
like  most  other  important  institutions  in  the  village, 
fronted  upon  the  principal  street.  In  its  door  stood 
the  stage  driver,  just  arrived  from  church,  where  he 
had  been  one  of  the  new  minister's  most  attentive  and 
judicial  critics.  He  had  not  joined  the  after-service 
interviewers,  who  had  waited  to  express  their  senti- 
ments to  the  preacher  in  person  ;  but  he  had  freely 
exchanged  opinions  with  a  number  of  his  fellow 
auditors,  and  hud  overheard  a  good  deal  of  floating 
conversation  on  the  subject  as  the  congregation  filed 
p:ist  him  at  the  stable  door.  The  last  of  them  had 
gone  before  the  preacher  made  his  appearance;  and 
the  driver  had  taken  off  his  striped  alpaca  coat  and 
hung  it  up  among  the  whips  and  bridles,  preparatory 
to  giviii'jf  old  Grey  and  Carrots  their  midday  feed. 
Whinnies  and  pawing  hoofs  from  distant  stalls  urged 
him  to  be  quick  about  it,  but  he  thrust  his  hands  into 
his  pnrkets  mid  leaned  thoughtfully  against  the  door- 
post. He  was  not  so  picturesque  a  figure  in  his  Sun- 
day suit  as  in  the  rusty  workaday  clothes  in  which 


THE    UOCKAXOCK  STAGE. 


we  huve  heretofore  seen  him.  The  black  trousers, 
bought  ready  made  at  the  village  store,  and  proving 
their  newness  by  the  creases  running  up  and  down 
the  legs,  had  been  made  for  the  average  man,  aud 
were,  for  the  present  wearer,  of  inadequate  length 
but  of  superfluous  breadth.  Below  them  appeared  the 
lean,  bony  ankles  and  the  clumsy  but  well-blacked 
shoes.  Above  them,  though  strongly  inclined  to  avoid 
them,  was  the  ill-fitting  buff  vest,  through  which  the 
limp  bosom  bulged  uncomfortably  ;  while  collar  and 
cravat  struggled  for  precedence  in  the  effort  to  reach 
the  wearer's  ears. 

No  thought  or  consciousness  of  these  things  was 
in  Lezer's  mind,  however,  as  he  stood  in  the  stable 
door.  He  was  watching  the  limping  figure  that  was 
approaching  him.  It  did  not  require  great  power  of 
penetration  to  discover  the  preacher's  dejection  — 
even  by  his  gait.  On  his  face,  though  the  brown 
straw  hat  hid  the  upper  portion  of  it,  despondency 
was  written  in  every  line.  He  became  aware,  through 
unmistakable  tokens,  of  the  proximity  of  the  stable, 
and,  as  he  passed  it,  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  figure  in 
the  door,  but  limped  on  without  so  much  as  turning 
his  head. 

"Wall,  elder,"  said  a  drawling  voice,  "how  do  yer 
like  it  sfurz  ye  've  gone?" 

"  Ah,  Mr.  Martin  !  "  said  the  minister,  stopping  and 


SATIRE  AND  SINCERITY.  193 

looking  up.  "I  did  n't  know  it  was  you.  What  was 
your  question  ?  " 

"  I  ast  ye  how  ye  liked  yer  new  job." 

"  I've  hardly  tried  it  long  enough  to  tell." 

"I  s'pose  so.  You  a'n't  like  the  blacksmith's 
'prentice  they  tell  about." 

"What  did  he  do?" 

"Didn't  ye  never  hear  that  story?  Why,  he 
worked  half  a  day  and  went  home  a-cryiug,  an'  sed 
he  was  sorry  he  ever  larnt  the  trade." 

Mr.  Austin  laughed,  and  looked  keenly  into  Lezer's 
eyes,  to  see  whether  he  was  quizzing  him.  "  I  don't 
think  I  am  like  him,"  he  replied.  "  I  am  not  ready  to 
say  that,  anyway." 

"  No,  I  knowed  ye  wa'n't.  I  never  see  but  one 
minister  'at  wuz,  an'  that  wnz  my  Uncle  Merodach. 
He  was  dreffle  smart,  too,  Uncle  Rodach  wuz,  and 
spent,  laud  knows  how  many  years,  a-studying,  an' 
then  got  skairt  out  the  very  fust  day." 

"  Scared  at  what,  pray  ?  " 

"  I  dunno  ;  his  own  shadder,  like  enough.  I  never 
heerd  jest  how  'twuz,  whether  the  sarmon  did  n't  suit 
him,  br  the  people  did  n't  lissen  good,  or  somebody 
found  some  fault  with  somefhiu'  another ;  but  he  jest 
preached  one  Sunday  an'  swore  he  'd  never  go  inter  no 
pulpit  ag'in." 

"Swore!" 


194  THE  EOCKANOCK  STAGE. 

"Oh,  I  don't  mean  he  used  any  actual  swear  words  ; 
but  he  vowed  he  'd  quit,  an'  he  did  —  jest  trotted  one 
heat,  's  yer  may  say,  an'  jumped  the  track  slick  an' 
clean." 

"  I  don't  see  how  he  could  do  it !  " 

"  Course  you  don't.  You  never  'd  do  it.  You  a'n't 
that  kind  o'  stuff.  I  knowed  t'  other  day,  when  you 
rid  up  with  me  on  the  stage,  'at  ther'  wa'n't  no  Rodach 
about  you  ;  sez  I  ter  myself,  '  That  man  's  got  sand  in 
him,'  sez  I." 

"  That 's  another  name  for  friction,  I  suppose?  " 

"  It 's  another  name  for  grit !  " 

Mr.  Austin,  for  some  reason,  felt  uncomfortable 
under  this  compliment,  which,  intentionally  or  unin- 
tentionally, conveyed  a  rebuke.  "  I  noticed  you  at 
church  this  morning,  Mr.  Martin,"  he  said,  by  way  of 
turning  the  conversation. 

"  Did  ye,  though?  S'pose  ye  knowed  me  by  a  kind 
o'  hossy  smell.  I  did  n't  ketch  yer  eye  no  time.  But 
p'r'aps  ye  're  like  these  here  schoolmasters  ;  knowin' 
everytlun'  in  the  room  without  lookiu'  up.  Wall,  ye 
hed  enough  ter  do  without  watchin'  me,  an'  you  did  it, 
too.  Oh,  but  did  n't  you  jest  sling  it  to  'em  !  " 

"To  whom?" 

"  Why,  to  the  mizzuble  sinnerz,  ye  know,  an'  all  the 
rest  on  'em." 

"  What !  were  there  really  sinners  there?  " 


SATIRE  AND   SINCERITY.  195 

"  Sinnerz  !  Come,  what 's  the  use  o'  jokin'?  Did  n't 
yer  say  you  see  me  there  ?  Siunerz  !  I  should  say  so  ; 
an'  publickius,  an'  scribes,  an  Pharisees,  an'  hypper- 
crits,  an'  heathen,  an'  Hivites,  an'  Hittites,  an'  Ammy- 
rites,  an'  Jebbyzites,  an'  Perryzites,  as  the  Scripture 
sez.  Oh,  yes,  if  siunerz  is  what  you  're  lookin'  for, 
elder,  you  've  jest  struck  it  rich.  Ther'  's  old  Square 
Mycopp,  now  ;  why,  I  '11  give  ye  five  years  to  convert 
him.  A  Dimmycratic  lawyer!  think  o'  that,  elder! 
Then  there  's  old  Sol  Drabsider  ;  he  's  another  reggular 
bonanza  for  ye.  An'  there  's  plenty  more  o'  the  same 
sort.  Oh,  don't  you  worry,  elder,  you  won't  run  short 
o'  siunerz  yit  awhile." 

"  I  was  n't  anxious  on  that  point,"  said  the  minister. 

"  Wall,  I  '111  «lad  on  't,"  responded  Lezer  in  a  tone 
of  relief,  "  for  some  is.  Of  course  what  a  preacher 
wants  is  plenty  o'  sinnerz,  an'  plenty  o'  hard  work,  an' 
discurigemints,  an'  crookid  sticks  to  vex  his  righteous 
soul  from  day  to  day,  like  old  Lot's  was  in  Sodom- 
Gouiorrer,  as  the  Scriptur'  sez;  an'  some  on  'em,  if 
they  don't  meet  up  with  it  right  off,  they  can't  stan'  it 
a  minit,  ye  know.  But  land  !  you  a'u't  none  of  them 
sort." 

"  I  should  hope  not,"  laughed  Mr.  Austin. 

"  Speshually  when  ther'  a'n't  nothin'  to  worry  about, 
with  sech  lots  of  good  tough  work  layiu'  round  loose, 
an'  sinuerz  plenty." 


196  THE  EOCKANOCK  STAGE. 

"  Certainly  ;  I  ought  to  be  greatly  encouraged,  and 
so  I  am.  Good  clay,  Mr.  Martin." 

"Good  day,  elder.  Luck  ter  ye."  The  stage 
driver  watched  the  retreating  figure  as  he  had  watched 
the  approaching  one,  and  marked  the  difference  be- 
tween them.  "  His  face  a'n't  so  long  by  a  foot !  "  he 
said  to  himself,  "an*  he  don't  limp  nigh  so  bad, 
neither.  Should  n't  wonder  but  what  my  sermon  done 
him  more  good  'n  his  done  me,  mebbe." 

And  it  was  so.  The  preacher  acknowledged  to 
himself  the  wholesome  tonic  of  Lexer's  discourse. 
How  much  was  meant  by  it  he  could  not  decide.  He 
did  not  doubt  that  he  had  betrayed  his  despondency. 
That  the  shrewd  fellow  should  have  guessed  its  cause, 
and  extemporized  this  remedy,  was  almost  too  much 
to  believe.  But,  whether  by  design  or  by  chance,  the 
young  man's  thoughts  had  been  turned  in  precisely 
the  right  direction  to  lead  him  out  of  the  Slough  of 
Despond  in  which  his  critics  had  left  him.  What 
reason  had  he  for  discouragement?  He  was  not  prop- 
erly appreciated.  Some  praised  him  unwisely,  and 
some  openly  dispraised  him.  What  of  it?  Whose 
fault  was  it?  If  it  was  his,  he  could  correct  it.  If  it 
was  theirs,  let  them  do  the  fretting  too.  What  right 
had  he  to  demand  appreciation?  Who  was  appre- 
ciated ?  Certainly  not  his  Master ;  not  the  apostles  ; 
not  the  great  workers,  teachers,  reformers.  Should 


SATIEE  AND   SINCERITY.  197 

then  a  nobody  like  him  demand  more  than  they? 
What  had  he  sought  the  ministry  for?  For  the  enjoy- 
ment of  it?  What  had  he  expected?  comfort,  luxury, 
flowery  beds  of  ease?  Had  he  not  prepared  himself 
for  an  arduous  life?  Had  he  not  resolved  to  "  endure 
hardness  as  a  good  soldier  of  Jesus  Christ "  ?  Should 
he  flinch  at  the  first  onset?  He  was  ashamed  of  his 
weakness  and  cowardice.  Lexer's  alleged  uncle  had 
scarcely  been  more  pusillanimous.  "  I  have  been  a 
genuine  Rodach,"  he  said  to  himself  as  he  entered 
the  house. 

I'M. -.sing  from  the  glare  of  the  midday  sun  into  the 
cool  and  dimly  lighted  hall,  he  paused  a  moment  at 
the  foot  of  the  stairway.  From  the  regions  above 
came  a  rustling  sound  and  a  softly  murmured  strain  of 
the  closing  hymn  at  church.  Looking  up  he  saw 
Lucy,  all  in  white,  floating  down  to  him  like  an  angel 
in  a  cloud.  He  greeted  her  politely  and  moved  aside 
to  let  her  pass.  But  she  came  close  to  him,  with  the 
color  deepening  in  her  face,  and  the  look  in  her  eyes 
which  he  had  caught  a  glimpse  of  in  the  midst  of  his 
sermon.  '•  Mr.  Austin,"  she  said,  •'  your  sermon  was 
on  purpose  for  me  !  " 

The  avowal  covered  him  with  confusion.  He  out- 
blushed  her  in  an  instant.  "  Was  it?"  he  asked. 

"Yes,  on  purpose!  I  tried  to  listen  for — for 
others,  but  you  spoke  straight  to  me.  How  could  you 
know  just  what  I  needed  ?  " 


198  THE  KOCKANOCK  STAGE. 

He  looked  at  her  in  amazement.  Needed?  This 
beautiful  creature,  who  seemed  so  far  above  him,  who 
made  him  feel  so  coarse  and  ill-bred,  and  whom  he 
had  imagined  to  be  looking  down  upon  him  with  a 
sense  of  infinite  superiority? 

"Why,  Miss  Darling!"  he  stammered,  "I  have 
never  thought  of  you  as  needing  anything,  much  less 
anything  that  I  could  help  you  find." 

"  I  need  everything.  You  have  helped  me  to  dis- 
cover that." 

"Will  you  let  me  tell  you  where  to  find  everything  ?  " 

The  unspoken  answer  was  in  her  eyes,  when  a  heavy 
step  ascended  the  porch,  and  Major  Gibson  opened  the 
door,  turning,  as  he  did  so,  to  throw  away  the  half- 
consumed  cigar  that  he  had  been  enjoying  in  the 
garden  arbor.  Mr.  Austin  felt  the  situation  to  be  an 
awkward  one,  and  one  with  which,  on  the  face  of  it, 
a  guardian  was  liable  to  be  displeased.  But  Lucy 
showed  not  the  slightest  sign  of  embarrassment.  She 
gave  her  guardian  a  smile  of  greeting  as  he  entered, 
her  eyes  still  glistening  with  a  feeling  of  which  she 
seemed  in  nowise  ashamed. 

"I  am  telling  Mr.  Austin,"  she  said,  brushing  a 
flake  of  gray  ashes  from  the  major's  coat,  "  how  much 
good  his  sermon  has  done  me." 

"That's  right,  my  dear,  that's  right,"  said  the 
major  uneasily. 


SATIRE  AND    SI \rKHI  I  Y.  199 

"What  is  right?"  she  risked  wistfully. 

"  Oh,  you  need  n't  think  I  want  you  to  be  a  heathen 
because  I  am." 

"Is  heathenism  any  worse  for  me  than  for  you?  " 
she  said,  laying  her  two  hands  on  his  arm  and  search- 
ing his  eyes  with  her  own. 

"  Well,  perhaps  not,  my  child,  but  —  yes,  I  think  it 
is,  rather  worse." 

"Why  is  it?" 

"  Come,  come,  I  'm  not  defending  heathenism." 

"  Let  us  renounce  it  together  !  " 

Mr.  Austin  waited  to  hear  no  more  of  this  dialogue, 
but  excused  himself  and  went  to  his  room,  while  Lucy 
and  the  major  walked  away  arm  in  arm. 

"  She  has  a  hard  task,"  he  said  to  himself,  "  but  it 
is  not  too  soon  to  begin  it.  A  heathen  lover  is  more 
tractable  than  a  heathen  husband."  As  to  her  heath- 
enism, he  no  more  believed  in  it  than  the  major  did. 
It  was  as  inconceivable  to  him  as  the  impiety  of 
a  saint. 

He  seated  himself  by  the  window,  took  up  his  even- 
ing sermon,  and  attempted  to  turn  his  mind  to  the 
new  topic ;  but  the  events  and  experiences  of  the 
morning  proved  too  absorbing,  and  he  was  soon  lost 
in  reverie. 

A  knock  at  the  door  aroused  him.  "Come!"  he 
shouted,  and  then,  remembering  that  he  was  no  longer 


200  THE  EOCKANOCK  STAGE. 

in.  college,  arose  to  greet  his  visitor  more  civilly.  It 
was  the  doctor,  who  had  come  ostensibly  to  bring  a 
notice  that  had  been  sent  in,  but  really  to  exchange 
a  friendly  word  with  the  young  minister,  and. see  how 
it  fared  with  him  since  the  morning's  effort. 

"  Pardon  my  rudeness,  doctor,"  said  Mr.  Austin, 
"  the  force  of  student  habit  is  so  strong  upon  me  yet, 
that  I  am  hardly  in  an  accountable  condition.  That 
'  Come '  just  said  itself." 

"  Reflex  action,"  remarked  the  doctor  sententiously. 
"  Perfectly  scientific  and  sensible.  Don't  stand  on 
ceremony  with  me.  And  now,  my  dear  sir,  bow  do 
you  find  yourself  after  that  good  sermon  you  have 
given  us?" 

"  Half  an  hour  ago,"  said  Mr.  Austin,  "  I  felt  as  if 
I  could  never  preach  again.  Now  I  feel  as  if  I  could 
preach  a  thousand  years." 

"  Exaltation  — reaction  —  recuperation  !  Scientific 
again,  and  natural.  Apropos  of  the  same  subject,  let 
us  go  down  to  dinner." 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

PORTIA    AND    BASSANIO. 

AT  early  twilight,  on  a  quiet  summer  evening,  Miss 
•*••*•  Lucy  Darling  and  Mr.  Allan  MacAllan  sat  in 
the  parlor  of  the  Ashley  mansion,  in  pleasant  conver- 
sation. Her  charms  of  person  and  of  costume,  which 
would  have  been  striking  in  any  light,  were  enhanced 
l>y  the  soft,  rich  glow  reflected  from  the  western  sky. 
Mr.  MacAllan  sat  before  her  in  easy  self-possession, 
—  not  too  near,  not  too  far  away,  —  refined  and  cour- 
teous, free  alike  from  boldness  and  from  diffidence, 
taking  neither  less  nor  more  than  his  proper  share  of 
the  conversation,  and  while  saying  in  an  offhand  way 
many  bright  and  entertaining  things,  seemed  to  be 
interested  only  in  what  was  said  by  her.  He  had 
called,  ostensibly,  to  pay  his  respects  to  the  new 
minister.  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Ashley  happening  to  be 
absent  at  the  time,  Lucy  was  hostess  pro  tempore  ; 
and  as  a  patient  was  expected  for  whom  the  doctor 
had  left  a  message,  she  answered  the  bell  in  person. 

She  was  not  annoyed,  as  she  once  would  have  been, 
at  meeting  the  man  for  whom  she  conceived  at  first 
sight  so  intense  a  dislike.  Her  prejudice  against  him, 
like  that  against  Mr.  Austin,  had  been  conquered  by 

201 


202  THE  EOCKANOCK  STAGE. 

sheer  good  sense.  She  could  give  no  reason  for  it, 
except  an  unfavorable  impression,  and  that,  she  told 
herself,  was  no  reason  at  all.  She  was  no  believer  in 
woman's  intuitions,  or  anybody's  else.  She  held  such 
things  to  be  nonsense,  and  she  would  never  govern 
herself  by  the  law  of  nonsense.  "  Here  is  a  gentle- 
man," she  said  to  herself,  "  about  whom  I  know  noth- 
ing. Other  people  regard  him  as  worthy  of  respect. 
It  would  be  preposterous  for  me  to  assume  the  con- 
trary, and  I  will  not.  He  is  a  part  of  the  little  world 
where  I  am  to  live.  I  must  often  meet  him.  I  will 
form  my  opinion  of  him  and  govern  my  conduct 
toward  him  like  a  sensible  woman,  and  not  like  a 
superstitious  idiot." 

She  soon  found  occasion  to  practice  this  excellent 
philosophy.  They  had  had  several  casual  meetings  at 
the  Waubertons'  and  elsewhere,  and  were  already  on 
terms  of  incipient  acquaintance.  When,  therefore,  as 
hostess  pro  tempore,  she  greeted  him  at  the  door,  her 
manner  was  gracious  and  cordial,  although  she  secretly 
rejoiced  to  hear  him  ask  for  Mr.  Austin. 

As  she  was  admitting  him,  a  servant,  who  had  also 
heard  the  bell,  appeared  at  the  other  end  of  the  hall, 
and  was  sent  to  announce  the  call  to  Mr.  Austin, 
while  Lucy  showed  the  visitor  to  the  parlor.  She 
would  then  have  retired,  but  Mr.  MacAllan,  casually 
alluding  to  the  heat  of  the  day,  remarked  that  it  had 


rORTIA   A.\D   HASSAXIO.  203 

proved  too  much  for  Miss  Maggie,  who  was  suffering 
from  a  violent  headache.  Lucy  was  distressed  to  hear 
it.  and  advanced' a  step  or  two  into  the  room  to  ruake 
an  inquiry  concerning  her  friend's  condition.  At  this 
moment  the  jasmine  odors  coming  through  the  open 
windows  drew  an  exclamation  of  delight  from  Mr. 
Mac-Allan,  which  moved  the  unwary  girl  to  call  his 
attention  to  the  graceful  festooning  of  the  vines  on 
the  veranda  He  admired  them  greatly,  and  was  re- 
minded by  them  of  the  old  homestead  in  Maryland, 
about  which,  of  course,  she  offered  some  courteous 
inquiry,  and  he  some  further  explanation. 

Thus,  with  an  art  of  which  he  was  the  consummate 
master,  he  wove  around  her  the  meshes  of  a  conversa- 
tion which  detained  her  in  the  room,  drew  her  into  the 
seat  opposite  him,  and  filled  the  interval  before  the 
minister's  appearance  with  friendly  chat. 

For  instance  :  "  You  really  find  Rockby  quite  en- 
durable, Miss  Darling?"  he  asked. 

"  Endurable?"  she  repeated  with  animation,  running 
the  syllables  up  the  scale  almost  an  octave.  "  Indeed, 
it  has  made  no  demand  upon  my  endurance.  I  find  it 
very  delightful :  do  not  you?" 

"On  many  accounts,  yes,"  replied  Mr.  MacAllan  ; 
"  though  of  course  it  has  attractions  for  you  that  it 
has  not  for  me.  The  difference  between  being  at 
home,  among  one's  dearest  friends,  and  being  a  solitary 


204  THE  ROCKANOCK  STAGE. 

stranger,  is  a  considerable  difference,  Miss  Darling." 
The  faintest  shade  of  pain  seemed  to  cross  his  face, 
followed  instantly  by  a  smile,  as  if  he  felt  it  a  breach 
of  courtesy  to  obtrude  his  homesickness  upon  her. 

She  caught  both  expressions,  and  scored  them  both 
to  his  credit.  "  I  know  precisely  what  that  difference 
is,"  she  said  more  seriously,  recalling  certain  forlorn 
moments  in  her  school  life,  and  pitying  anybody  who 
might  now  be  suffering  similar  distress.  There  was 
a  barely  perceptible  touch  of  sympathy  in  her  voice, 
for  which  Mr.  MacAllan  was  grateful,  though  not  be- 
cause he  felt  the  need  of  it.  "  Wonder  if  there  is 
more  where  that  came  from?"  he  said  to  himself. 
"I 'if  see." 

"  Since  the  death  of  my  parents,"  he  began  medita- 
tively, as  if  he  had  not  noticed  her  last  remark,  "  and 
especially  since  my  mother's  death,  home  has  been  only 
a  beautiful  memory."  He  paused,  looking  dreamily 
into  the  hat  that  he  held  in  his  two  hands,  and  there 
fell  a  single  moment  of  silence  which  Lucy  was  the 
first  to  break. 

"  I  have  been  more  fortunate,"  she  said  with  an 
evident  increase  of  the  sympathetic  in  her  tone.  "  I 
have  lost  my  parents,  but  not  my  home."  She  really 
felt  sorry  for  the  man  who  had  lost  both,  and  let 
her  eyes  rest  a  moment  upon  him,  as  he  sat  gazing 
into  his  white  Leghorn,  apparently  lost  in  tender 
recollections. 


PORTIA  A\D  BASSAXIO.  205 

"  He  has  a  good  face,"  she  mentally  affirmed,  "and 
he  loved  his  mother."  She  scored  these  two  items  in 
his  favor,  and  another  faintest  possible  trace  of  the 
sympathetic  came  unconsciously  into  her  face. 

He,  while  posing  for  the  moment  in  this  becoming 
attitude,  instead  of  tenderly  recalling  his  mother,  —  a 
stepmother  of  intolerable  temper,  whom  he  had  heartily 
detested,  —  was  inwardly  saying,  "  That  was  a  good 
card,  my  boy,  and  well  played  ;  save  it  for  another 
time." 

Arousing  himself  from  his  pretended  reverie,  he 
looked  up  suddenly,  detected  the  above-mentioned 
faintest  possible  trace  of  the  sympathetic,  and  inter- 
preted it  according  to  the  promptings  of  his  own 
vanity. 

"  Pardon  me,  Miss  Darling,"  he  said  with  a  smile 
of  self-depreciation.  u  I  am  ashamed  of  myself. 
You  must  think  me  a  stupid  mope.  I  don't  know 
what  possessed  me  to  fall  into  such  a  sentimental 
mood." 

The  inference  was  that  he  had  been  encouraged  to 
it  by  a  sympathetic  auditor,  which  was  flattering  to  the 
auditor,  and  of  course  creditable  to  his  susceptible 
nature. 

"  I  hope  you  will  like  Rockby  better,"  she  remarked. 

"  Oh,  I  like  it  already  !  "  he  answered  warmly,  "  and 
I  have  the  best  reasons  for  doing  so.  No  stranger 


206  THE  ROCKANOCK  STAGE. 

was  ever  more  generously  treated,  or  found  more  or 
better  friends." 

"  Western  people  are  reputed  to  be  more  free  and 
cordial  with  strangers  than  Eastern  people  are." 

"  If  Rockby  is  a  specimen,  they  certainly  deserve 
their  reputation.  Their  treatment  of  me  has  been 
more  than  friendly,  it  has  been  kindness  itself." 

Somehow  this  grateful  appreciation  of  Rockby  was 
so  expressed  as  to  justify  the  kindness  referred  to. 
It  was  evidently  to  Rockby's  credit  that  it  had  opened 
its  arms  to  this  pilgrim  and  stranger.  Rockby  would, 
of  course,  treat  no  man  so  except  upon  intuition  of 
his  superior  merit.  Ergo,  he  had  superior  merit ;  for 
how  could  it  have  been  recognized  if  it  had  not  existed  ? 
Ergo,  what  Rockby  had  done  collectively,  would  be 
becoming  in  any  given  individual,  say  in  his  present 
entertainer.  She  therefore  added  another  credit  mark 
to  his  score,  upon  authority  of  other  people's  good 
opinion. 

"Still,"  she  said,  "  we  cannot  help  wishing  for  some 
things  that  the  West  cannot  afford  us." 

We!  Did  she  already  connect  him  with  herself  in 
this  community  of  experiences?  "  I  suppose  you  are 
thinking  of  such  luxuries  as  ocean  surf  and  the  breath 
of  the  New  England  hills,"  he  said. 

"Yes,  partly  of  them." 

"  They  would  certainly  be  delicious  on  some  of  these 


PORTIA  AXD  BASSAXIO.  207 

sultry  days.  But  when  I  get  to  longing  for  them,  I 
utter  a  magic  word  that  robs  them  of  their  fascination 
in  an  instant." 

"  Do  teach  it  to  me." 

"Fog!" 

"  Fog?     Are  you  opposed  to  fog?" 

u  It  is  opposed  to  me.  I  am  a  fugitive  from  fog. 
Fog  is  my  enemy,  my  Nemesis.  Fogs  and  I  settled  it 
between  us  long  ago  that  we  could  not  live  together." 

"  How  unfortunate !  I  count  fogs  among  the 
choicest  luxuries  of  life.  Even  these  poor,  thin,  little 
river  fogs,  that  now  and  then  drift  about  the  valley 
and  the  bluffs  for  an  hour  or  two  in  the  morning,  are 
my  especial  delight." 

"  Ah,  yes,  indeed,  I  can  enjoy  that  sort  of  fog,  too. 
It  is  the  dense,  persistent,  all  day  and  all  night  sea 
fogs  that  I  dread.  Nice,  esthetic  fogs,  that  content 
themselves  with  being  picturesque,  have  my  heartiest 
approbation.  One  of  the  most  delightful  memories  of 
my  life  is  that  of  a  misty  morning  on  Loch  Katrine." 

"  Loch  Katrine  !  "  exclaimed  Lucy  eagerly.  "  Now, 
indeed,  you  make  Rock  by  prosaic." 

"  You  have  visited  Scotland  then?  " 

"  I  spent  a  summer  there,  and  it  seems  like  a  beau- 
tiful dream." 

"  May  I  ask  in  what  year  you  were  there?" 

"  Three  years  ago." 


208  THE  KOCKANOCK  STAGE. 

"  That  is  singular  ;  it  was  the  very  year  of  my  visit, 
and  confirms  the  impression,  which  has  haunted  me 
ever  since  that  Sunday  afternoon  at  the  Tremont 
House,  that  I  had  somewhere  seen  you  before.  It 
must  have  been  in  Scotland." 

Mr.  MacAllan's  memory  —  or  some  other  faculty  — 
was  at  fault  respecting  the  date  ;  but  the  imaginary 
coincidence  served  his  present  purpose  quite  as  well 
as  a  real  one  could  have  done.  Lucy  was  not  espe- 
cially interested  to  know  that  he  had  been  in  Scotland 
at  a  particular  time,  but  it  was  not  disagreeable  to  her 
to  believe  that  her  face  should  be  remembered  by  a 
passing  stranger  at  such  a  distance  of  time  and  place. 
At  any  rate,  a  new  topic  of  common  interest  was 
presented,  and  the  conversation  ran  more  fluently  than 
ever,  as  they  spoke  of  scenes  which  both  had  visited, 
not  only  in  Scotland,  but  in  other  parts  of  Europe. 
During  the  last  four  years  of  her  school  life  Lucy 
had  spent  her  summer  vacations  abroad,  in  company 
with  a  favorite  teacher.  Mr.  MacAllan  had  enjoyed 
a  single  flying  trip  of  three  months'  duration.  But 
he  knew  how  to  make  the  utmost  of  his  small  capital, 
and,  better  still,  how  to  make  an  enthusiast  like  Miss 
Darling  talk  of  her  own  more  extensive  touring.  She 
was  usually  very  reticent  upon  the  subject,  having  a 
hearty  detestation  of  the  "  when-I-was-abroad "  re- 
tailers of  foreign  reminiscences.  But  this  comparison 


PORTIA  AND  BASSANIO.  209 

of  notes  with  another  tourist  who  had  himself  intro- 
duced the  subject,  and  who  showed  so  keen  an 
interest  in  her  recollections  and  impressions,  was 
quite  another  thing.  The  meagerness  of  his  recol- 
lections and  impressions  was  effectually  concealed  by 
the  copiousness  of  hers.  He  rarely  volunteered  a 
fact  or  an  idea,  but  had  a  convenient  memory  for 
everything  referred  to  by  her.  It  was  only  when  she 
propounded  some  direct  question  to  whose  answer  she 
had  given  him  no  clew  that  he  got  into  serious 
difficulty. 

"  Did  you  enjoy  religious  worship  on  the  Conti- 
nent?" she  asked  suddenly,  when  they  were  speaking 
of  the  cathedrals. 

"Very  much  indeed,"  he  answered  at  a  venture; 
"  the  architectural  surroundings,  the  solemnity  of  the 
ritual,  the  suggestions  of  sublimity  and  reverence, 
the  "  — 

"  I  could  n't  bear  it,"  she  interrupted. 

"  You  surprise  me,"  responded  Mr.  MacAllan  with 
entire  truthfulness.  "I  should  think,  now,  that  you 
were  the  very  person  to  enjoy  it." 

"  Perhaps  I  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  not  doing  so," 
said  Lucy,  "  but  I  always  seemed  to  have  surprised 
a  lot  of  people  at  their  private  devotions.  I  could 
not  join  in  it  or  make  public  worship  of  it  at  all." 

"  Oh,  of  course,  it  is  not  a  kind  of  service  in  which 


210  THE  KOCKANOCK  STAGE. 

we  could  exactly  feel  at  home,"  said  Mr.  MacAllan. 
"  I  can't  say  that  I  ever  felt  entirely  at  home  in  any 
foreign  church." 

"  I  have,"  said  Lucy  in  her  most  positive  tone. 

"  And  pray  where  was  that?  "  asked  Mr.  MacAllau. 

"  In  a  little  Dissenting  chapel  in  London." 

"Indeed!" 

"  Yes,  in  a  mere  barn  of  a  place,  where  plain 
working  people  were  praying  and  singing  hymns  and 
telling  what  Christian  faith  had  done  for  them." 

"  Don't  you  find  the  worship  at  our  own  church 
very  delightful?"  he  asked,  thinking  questions  safer 
than  answers  upon  the  present  subject.  His  way  of 
saying  "our  own  church"  implied  that  he  regarded 
himself  as  entirely  identified  with  it. 

"  Here  in  Rockby  ?  "  she  asked. 

"Yes." 

' '  Not  particularly ;  at  least  I  have  not  often 
enjoyed  "it ;  but  I  —  think  —  I  —  shall  —  now  that  — 
that  —  the  candidating  is  over,"  she  said,  slightly 
coloring. 

"Is  it  proper  to  ask  your  opinion  of  the  new 
pastor? " 

"  It  would  be  highly  improper  for  me  to  give  it  at 
this  moment,"  she  answered  significantly,  as  the 
sound  of  a  heavy  and  uneven  tread  was  heard  upon 
the  stairs.  In  a  moment  more  Mr.  Austin,  consider- 


PORTIA  AND   RASSANIO.  211 

ably  flushed  and  out  of  breath,  entered  the  room. 
Lucy  rose  to  meet  him  with  a  smile  which  Mr. 
.Mac Allan  thought  somewhat  too  cordial,  and  intro- 
duced the  t\vo  gentlemen  to  each  other. 

"  I  urn  ashamed  to  have  kept  you  waiting  so  long," 
lit1  said,  addressing  Lucy  rather  than  the  caller. 

"•  It  cannot  have  been  long,  sir,"  replied  Mr. 
Mac  Allan  blandly.  "  I  have  but  just  arrived.  I  am 
sure  it  cannot  be  two  minutes  since  I  came."  He 
flattered  himself  that  that  little  speech  would  be  duly 
appreciated  by  the  fair  enchantress  who  had  annihi- 
lated for  him  the  remaining  quarter  of  an  hour. 

lu  truth,  Mr.  MacAllan  had  not  expected  the 
immediate  appearance  of  the  minister,  having  special 
•  us  for  anticipating  considerable  delay,  though  not 
quite  SQ  protracted  a  one  as  had  occurred.  The  two 
gentlemen  happened  to  occupy  rooms  whose  windows 
were  within  sight  of  each  other,  and  whose  internal 
arrangements  were  such  that  should  a  weary  man,  en 
<l<'xli<t.bilU,  chance  to  be  lying,  book  in  haud,  on  a  lounge 
in  one  room,  within  range  of  the  open  window,  the 
occupant  of  the  other  room  might  easily  apprise  himself 
of  the  fact,  especially  if  he  were  the  owner  of  a  good 
field  glass.  Mr.  MacAllan  was  the  owner  of  an 
excellent  field  glass,  and  his  mind  had  been  prepared 
for  considerable  detention.  Nor  did  he  find  the  delay 
irksome.  On  the  contrary,  he  rejoiced  at  its  uuex- 


212  THE  ROCKANOCK  STAGE. 

pected  continuance,  and  hoped  that  the  parson  would  be 
detained  for  an  hour  or  be  prevented  from  coming  at  all. 

"You  see,"  said  Mr.  Austin,  holding  out  a  pair  of 
hands  at  the  sight  of  which  Lucy  burst  into  a  merry 
laugh,  "  in  my  haste  to  get  ready,  I  overturned  my 
ink  bottle  among  my  papers.  Oh,  it  was  such  a 
scrape ! "  and  he  joined  heartily  in  Lucy's  laugh. 

Mr.  MacAllan  was  reminded  by  the  accident  of  an 
ink-bottle  scrape  of  his  own,  which  he  graphically 
related,  making  Lucy  so  important  a  part  of  his 
audience,  and  so  involving  her  in  the  trivial  dialogue 
which  followed,  that  he  succeeded  for  some  moments 
in  delaying  her  departure.  When  at  length  she  ex- 
cused herself  and  bade  the  caller  good  evening,  she 
expressed  her  gratification  at  the  revival  of  pleasant 
memories  and  her  hope  that  they  might  renew  the 
subject  at  a  future  time ;  a  hope  in  which  Mr. 
Mac  Allan  was  not  slow  to  concur. 

Lucy  could  not  conceal  from  herself  that  the  inter- 
view had  been  very  agreeable  indeed.  She  had  found 
Mr.  MacAllan  a  gentleman  of  intelligence,  refinement, 
and  unexceptionable  manners.  His  treatment  of  her 
had  been  peculiarly  gratifying.  He  had  betrayed  no 
admiration  ;  he  had  spoken  no  flattery  ;  he  had  resorted 
to  none  of  the  small-talk  devices  of  the  ordinary 
caller.  Yet,  however  she  had  discovered  it,  she  knew 
that  he  thoroughly  respected  her  and  had  enjoyed  her 


A\D  BASSANIO.  213 


society.  She  felt  certain  tluit  they  were  to  h:ive  a 
better  acquaintance  with  each  other,  and  anticipated 
it  with,  pleasure. 

She  made  no  secret  of  her  opinion  of  him,  but 
talked  as  frankly  of  him  to  Helen  and  the  major  as 
she  would  of  a  new  book  that  had  interested  her. 

"  So  you  retract  those  naughty  speeches  which  you 
formerly  made  about  this  Mr.  Mac  Whiskers  ?"  said 
Helen  archly. 

"  I  retract  no  speeches,  madam,"  replied  Lucy 
boldly.  "  I  said  that  I  then  detested  him,  and  it  was 
true.  I  say  that  I  now  like  him,  and  that  is  true. 
What  is  there  to  retract  about  that?" 

"Why,  nothing  at  all;  it  is  retraction,  isn't  it, 
major?" 

"  Oh,  you  need  n't  appeal  to  the  major  !  "  cried  Lucy. 
"He  likes  him  as  well  as  I  do  ;  he  has  told  me  so 
already,  haven't  you,  major?" 

"  Well,  I  don't  recall  just  what  I  may  have  said  to 
you  about  him,"  replied  the  major  evasively. 

"  But  I  do,"  persisted  Lucy.  "  You  said  he  was 
an  uncommonly  sensible  fellow,  just  the  kind  of  man 
you  liked  to  do  business  with.  There  !  " 

"  I  dare  say  I  did,"  said  the  major,  "  for  it's  true. 
I've  put  some  little  real  estate  matters  in  his  hands. 
I  like  him  well  enough  for  that.  But  from  what  I  've 
seen  of  him,  I  could  n't  encourage  you  to  expect  much 


21  i  TIIE  KOCKAXOCK  STAGE. 

from  him  in  a  social  way.  He  strikes  me  as  a  man 
who  cares  very  little  for  ladies'  society." 

"  Which  is  the  reason,  I  suppose,"  rejoined  Lucy, 
"  that  you  think  him  so  uncommonly  sensible  !  " 

"  Exactly  so." 

Mr.  Mac  Allan's  ideas  concerning  the  interview  with 
Lucy  may  best  be  gathered  from  the  lettw  which  he 
wrote  that  night  to  Mr.  Pack  :  — 

Dear  Velucius,  —  I  think  I  mentioned  to  you  that  I 
proposed  to  use  the  new  minister  as  a  means  of  secur- 
ing more  convenient  access  to  the  home  and  presence 
of  a  certain  young  lady  we  know  of.  Well,  I  have 
duly  initiated  him  into  his  new  duties,  and  the  result 
exceeded  my  fondest  expectation.  I  was  one  of  the 
first  of  his  flock  to  call  upon  him,  and  one  of  the  most 
ardent  in  my  expressions  of  gratification,  and  all  that ; 
told  him  just  to  look  on  me  as  one  of  his  right-hand 
men.  I  happened  to  call  when  the  Ashleys  were  out, 

and    Miss    D in ;    merest    accident,   you    know. 

I  did  n't  time  my  call  with  any  reference  to  her  —  oh, 
no  !  Did  n't  happen  to  know  that  she  was  at  home  — 
certainly  not !  Did  n't  happen  to  see  the  doctor  and 
his  wife  drive  away  a  few  minutes  before.  How  could 
I,  you  know,  when  my  room  is  at  least  fifty  yards 
away?  Didn't  understand  the  ways  of  country  doc- 
tors' families,  where  every  visitor  is  a  possible  patient, 
and  the  bell  is  commonly  answered  by  some  respousi- 


PORTIA  AND  DASSANIO.  215 

ble  member  of  the  household.  Did  n't  depend  on  this 
custom  to  bring  my  fair  L.  D.  to  the  door  —  not  at  all. 
Well,  she  came,  lovely  as  a  queen,  and  gave  me  the 
handsomest  kind  of  greeting ;  and  while  the  dominie 
\v;is  getting  his  boots  on,  we  had  just  the  nicest  little 
talk  in  the  parlor  !  I  was  n't  in  any  hurry  to  have 
him  come  down,  and  I  flatter  myself  she  wasn't 
either.  We  talked  about  the  weather,  and  the  scenery, 
and  Scotland,  and  the  Alps,  and  Venice,  but  not  about 
the  Merchant  of  Venice  or  his  friend  Bassanio.  She  's 
every  inch  a  Portia.  I  've  lived  in  Washington,  and 
s»vii  the  best  type  of  American  women,  and  not  a  few 
that  were  called  fascinating;  yet  I  deliberately  pro- 
nounce her  the  most  fascinating  woman  I  ever  met. 
You  will  say  that 's  a  lover's  hallucination.  Be  it  so. 
If  she  is  the  most  fascinating  of  women  to  me,  she 
must  be  the  woman  for  me  to  marry,  eh,  Velucius? 
WlicMi  the  entrance  of  the  dominie  interrupted  our 
conversation,  she  suggested  that  we  renew  it  at  another 
time.  Of  course  the  only  way  for  me  to  do  that  is  to 
call.  Does  it  seem  likely  that  I  would  gratify  her  to 
that  extent?  I'm  negotiating  for  a  horse  and  buggy 
—  just  what  I  want — good,  sensible,  business  rig, 
but  well  adapted  to  the  other  use  you  spoke  of.  As 
things  look  now  it  may  come  handy  most  any  time. 
Yours, 

MACK. 


CHAPTER   XVII. 

THE    NEW    CHOIR. 

OMR.  AUSTIN!  do  not  ask  me,  please!  I 
cannot  do  it.  Indeed  I  cannot.  I  have  no 
voice,  no  experience,  no  confidence  in  myself — noth- 
ing. I  could  not  think  of  such  a  thing."  The  pretty 
face  was  lifted  to  his  with  a  look  of  dismay  and 
entreaty  irresistibly  touching. 

"  Are  you  sure  that  you  could  not  think  of  it,  just 
for  a  few  moments?"  he  asked  kindly. 

"  Ah,  yes,  if  that  was  all,"  said  Lucy,  smiling 
again.  "  But  thinking  about  it  means  talking  about 
it,  and  talking  means  arguing ;  and  ai'guing  means 
urging,  and  urging  means  misery." 

"Before  we  reach  that  stage,"  said  he,  smiling  in 
his  turn,  "  we  will  stop." 

"We  have  reached  it  already,"  replied  Lucy.  "I 
am  miserable  now,  at  the  bare  mention  of  it." 

44  Then,  of  course,  we  cannot  stop.  I  must  talk 
you  out  of  your  wretchedness." 

44  Oh,  indeed,  you  cannot." 

4'  Let  me  try."  There  was  no  refusing  or  gainsay- 
ing him.  Lucy  sank  back  in  her  chair,  half  amused, 

216 


THE  XEW   CHOIR.  217 

half  vexed  at  his  persistency.  "This  is  the  way  he 
talks  to  that  Eastern  girl,"  she  thought,  "  and  he 
judges  me  by  her,  and  expects  me  to  take  the  law 
from  his  lips."  She  looked  at  him  in  defiance, 
resolved  not  to  yield  an  iota  of  her  objection.  "You 
seem  very  confident,"  she  remarked. 

"  I  have  unbounded  confidence  in  you,  Miss  Dar- 
ling," he  responded  in  a  tone  that  sent  the  blood  to 
her  cheeks. 

"  It  is  very  kind  of  you  to  say  that,"  she  said. 

•'You  will  do  what  you  believe  to  be  right,"  said 
he  ;  "  of  that  I  have  not  a  doubt." 

"Thank  you,"  said  she;  "but  concerning  what  is 
and  is  not  right  in  the  present  matter,  you  will  find  an 
obstinacy  of  opinion  which  I  fear  will  make  you  think 
worse  of  me." 

"  You  will  not  be  obstinate,"  he  said.  "  You  will 
be  candid  and  reasonable  and  conscientious." 

"Which  means,  I  suppose,  that  I  shall  agree  with 
you." 

"  I  think  you  will." 

"  I  am  sure  I  shall  not." 

"  Do  you  think  it  important  how  and  by  whom  the 
service  of  praise  is  conducted  ?  " 

"  Why,  yes,  sir,  I  regard  the  singer's  part  just 
as  sacred  and  almost  as  important  as  that  of  the 
minister," 


218  THE  KOCA'AXOCK  STAGE. 

'•  Who  ought  to  undertake  it?" 

"  The  most  competent  persons  that  can  be  found." 

"In  what  does  competence  consist?" 

Lucy  reflected  a  moment  before  replying:  "A  de- 
vout spirit,  ability  to  know  the  requirements  of  the 
occasion,  and  some  genuine  musical  talent  —  the  more 
the  better." 

^ 

"  Would  the  possession  of  these  qualifications  in  an 
eminent  degree,  together  with  a  special  demand  for 
them,  create  any  obligation  on  the  part  of  their 
possessor  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir,  undoubtedly;  though  I  fail  to  see  the 
relevancy  of  your  questions." 

c-  Nevertheless,  let  me  ask  another :  Will  you  nomi- 
nate to  me  the  lady  in  this  parish  who,  Mrs.  Lanman 
being  disabled,  is  now  called  upon  to  take  the  soprano 
part  in  our  choir?" 

"  I  have  but  a  limited  acquaintance  in  the  parish, 
especially  as  to  its  musical  resources,"  answered  Lucy 
evasively. 

"There  are  those  who  are  thoroughly  acquainted, 
:>inl  who  have  no  hesitation  in  making  the  nomination. 
I  am  ready  to  make  it  myself." 

"  Would  the  views  of  the  nominee  be  in  order?  " 

"I  think  the  nominating  committee  now  have  the 
floor.  Miss  Darling,  I  am  going  to  tell  you  some  plain 
truth,  which,  I  presume,  you  will  not  like  to  hear." 


THE  NEW  CHOIR.  219 

"  I  am  not  afraid  of  plain  truth,  I  hope." 

"  Well,  then,"  he  said  as  seriously  as  if  he  were 
chiding  her  for  a  grave  offense,  "  you  have  been  en- 
dowed with  a  remarkably  pure,  sweet  soprano  voice, 
peculiarly  adapted  to  sacred  music." 

"O  Mr.  Austin!"  cried  Lucy,  putting  her  two 
hands  to  her  crimsoning  face,  "  how  can  you  say  such 
a  preposterous  thing  to  me  !  " 

"  I  knew  you  would  n't  like  it,"  he  replied.  "  I 
told  you  so  to  begin  with." 

"  No,  sir ;  I  do  not  like  flattery,"  she  said  angrily. 

"  Mi>s  Darling,"  he  replied  gently,  li  flattery  is  the 
resort  of  triflers ;  I  am  in  earnest.  Flattery  is  an 
appeal  to  vanity  ;  I  am  appealing  to  your  conscience." 

She  let  her  hands  drop  upon  her  lap,  but  did  not 
look  at  him.  He  went  on  as  if  he  were  stating 
an  item  of  indifferent  fact.  "  You  have  the  finest 
soprano  voice  in  Rockby.  Everybody  knows  that. 
Everybody  says  it.  There  is  no  sort  of  use  in  deny- 
ing it." 

She  seemed  about  to  do  so,  but  did  not  speak. 
There  was  that  in  his  manner  that  carried  conviction. 
She  felt  the  uselessness  of  denial.  She  even  began 
to  believe  the  fact  as  something  irrefutable,  and  to 
contemplate  it  with  a  sort  of  impersonal  interest,  as 
if  it  referred  to  somebody  else.  She  turned  her  eyes 
to  him  once  more  as  he  went  on  :  — 


220  THE  EOCKANOCK  STAGE. 

"  What  then?  Is  it  any  credit  to  you  to  have  the 
best  voice  in  Rockby  ?  " 

"  Not  the  least  in  the  world,"  she  said,  "  even 
allowing  that  it  is  true." 

"  It  is  true,"  he  said  deliberately,  "  and  so  is  your 
answer.  The  best  voice  in  Rockby  is  simply  a  gift, 
or,  more  correctly,  a  trust,  committed  to  you  by 
Another,  and  to  be  used  with  reference  to  His 
wishes."  He  had  her  most  earnest  attention  now,  and 
waited  a  moment  for  her  to  speak ;  but  she  said 
nothing,  and  he  went  on  :  — 

"  You  have  had  unusual  advantages  for  musical 
culture ;  better  than  those  enjoyed  by  any  other 
person  in  Rockby.  Am  I  correct?" 

"  Perhaps  so.  I  don't  know.  Probably  I  have. 
Yes,  I  think  I  have." 

"  Does  that  involve  a  further  trust  and  respon- 
sibility?" 

"  I  suppose  it  does." 

"  Have  you  lately  formed  any  new  purposes  as  to 
religious  duty  ?  " 

44  Yes,  sir." 

"  Did  you  make  an  exception  concerning  this  par- 
ticular obligation?" 

"What  obligation,  Mr.  Austin?" 

"  To  use  your  voice  in  the  service  ^f  your  new 
Master." 


THE  NEW  CHOIR.  221 

"Oh,  no,  sir;  no!  I  am  sure  you  do  not  think 
I  did." 

u  No,  I  know  you  did  not.  Now  let  us  put  this 
and  that  together.  The  King's  service  requires  the 
best  voice  and  the  best  musical  training  in  Rockby. 
That  voice  and  training  are  found  with  one  of  the 
King's  daughters,  who  has  been  earnestly  wishing  that 
she  might  lay  some  gift  at  his  feet.  What  do  you 
think  she  will  do?" 

••  She  will  first  carefully  sift  your  parable  to  see  if 
it  does  not  cover  a  fallacy.  You  put  the  case  from 
your  own  point  of  view;  let  me  put  it  from  mine. 
You  say  I  have  had  superior  advantages  for  musical 
instruction.  So  I  have,  and  therefore  superior  oppor- 
tunities to  know  how  inferior  my  own  talents  are.  I 
was  a  pupil  of  the  best  vocal  teacher  in  America ; 
but  he  had  other  pupils  who  were  so  incomparably 
above  me  that  I  could  not  have  sung  a  note  in  their 
presence.  He  never  pretended  that  I  had  exceptional 
talent.  He  would  not  have  dreamed  of  recommending 
me  for  a  position  in  a  church  quartet  or  for  any 
other  professional  effort.  I  took  my  music  as  a 
means  of  cultivating  my  taste  and  enabling  me  the 
better  to  appreciate  and  enjoy  the  performances  of 
those  who  could  do  what  I  very  well  knew  I  could 
not.  And  then  there  were  people  not  over-critical, 
there  were  occasions  when  professional  talent  was  not 


222  THE  KOCKANOCK  STAGE. 

available,  offering  a  sphere  of  usefulness  for  the 
mediocre  musician.  I  found  that  my  friends,  espe- 
cially the  major,  enjoyed  my  singing.  It  came  to  me 
cue  day  as  a  sudden  revelation  that  I  could,  in  that 
way,  contribute  to  the  pleasure  of  those  who  love 
me ;  and  that  was  really  my  strongest  motive  in  pur- 
suing my  musical  education.  To  take  any  public 
position  is  foreign  to  all  my  plans  and  my  tastes. 
I  can  hardly  bring  my  mind  to  think  of  it.  It  seems 
like  claiming  abilities  which  I  know  I  do  not  possess." 

"  No  one  will  put  that  construction  upon  it,  I  am 
sure,"  said  Mr.  Austin.  "  I  have  not  asserted  that 
you  had  phenomenal  powers,  but  only  that  they  were 
the  best  in  Rockby,  and  amply  sufficient  for  the  occa- 
sion. You  have  cultivated  your  voice  that  you  might 
please  your  friends.  Here  is  an  opportunity  to  please 
a  Friend  who,  I  am  sure  you  will  admit,  is  dearer  to 
you.  than  even  Major  Gibson."  Mr.  Austin  rose. 
"  Now,"  said  he,  "  I  am  willing  to  leave  the  decision 
to  you." 

She  rose  also,  and  stood  a  moment  folding  and  un- 
folding her  fan.  "  I  have  decided,"  she  said  quietly. 

"  You  will  sing  then?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  And  begin  next  Sabbath?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  I  knew  you  would."     There  was  no  triumph  in  his 


THE  NEW  CHOIR.  223 

tone,  but  deep  gratification,  which  flushed  his  cheeks 
and  temples,  and  gleamed  in  his  eyes. 

Lucy  searched  his  face  for  some  sign  of  the  more 
ignoble  feeling,  but  it  was  not  there.  "  It  is  very 
magnanimous  in  you  not  to  exult  over  my  discom- 
fiture," she  said,  giving  him  her  hand  in  parting. 

"  You  are  not  discomfited,"  he  answered,  pressing 
the  soft  hand  more  fervently  than  he  was  aware. 
"  You  meant  all  the  time  to  do  just  what  you  thought 
to  be  right  in  the  matter.  Did  n't  I  say  so  from  the 
outset?" 

He  limped  away  to  report  to  the  Music  Committee, 
and  marshal  the  rest  of  his  choir.  As  he  mused  upon 
the  interview  just  ended,  his  gratification  at  Miss 
Darling's  spirit  increased  more  and  more.  "  The  girl 
has  the  making  of  a  saint  in  her,"  he  said  to  himself. 
"•  I  am  glad  she  is  going  to  marry  a  rich  man.  She  is 
one  who  will  make  good  use  of  that  trust  also." 

Lucy  stood  where  he  left  her,  rubbing  the  hand  he 
had  so  cruelly  squeezed,  and  dreading  the  task  to 
which  she  had  committed  herself.  "I  cannot  enjoy 
the  sermons  any  more,"  she  thought,  "  or  any  other 
part  of  the  Sabbath  worship ;  but  if  I  can  help  to 
make  the  service  impressive,  that  is  better  than  enjoy- 
ing it." 

In  the  following  week  Mr.  Allan  MacAllan  wrote  to 
his  friend  Pack  as  follows :  — 


224  THE  ROCKANOCK  STAGE. 

Dear  V.  L.,  — Old  things  are  passed  away,  and  all 
things  are  become  new !  I  told  you  we  had  a  new 
minister.  Now  we  have  a  new  choir.  And  who  do 
you  suppose  is  the  chorister  and  tenor  singer?  Your 
humble  servant.  He  accepted  the  position  with  great 
(apparent)  reluctance,  but  is  already  overwhelmed 
with  praises  and  congratulations.  And  who  do  you 
think  is  soprano ;  to  stand  at  my  side  every  Sunday ; 
to  join  me  in  duets  ;  to  sit  in  the  next  chair  to  me  in 
the  choir  gallery ;  to  spend  the  rehearsal  hour  with 
me  every  week,  and  without  doubt  to  be  commonly 
escorted  to  and  from  rehearsals  by  me?  Why,  the 
charming  L.  D. ! 

The  bass  and  contralto  are  a  young  married  couple, 
who,  of  course,  cling  together  on  all  occasions,  leav- 
ing the  remainder  of  the  quartet  to  do  the  same  if  so 
disposed,  as  I  think  they  may  be.  Did  I  once  tell  you 
that  I  almost  thought  I  had  fallen  in  love  with  Miss 
D.  ?  Well,  I  am  certain  of  it  now  ;  and  what  is  more, 
I  am  reasonably  certain  that  she  is  going  to  fall  in 
love  with  me.  I  don't  say  that  I  have  made  much  of 
an  impression  yet,  but  she  treats  me  very  handsomely, 
and  we  are  getting  acquainted  pretty  fast. 

Now,  another  thing.  I  don't  know  but  it  may  be 
policy  for  me  to  join  the  church.  Miss  D.  is  not  a 
member,  but  will  be  before  long,  I  hear,  and  is  just 
now  as  devout  aa  a  little  nun.  Moreover,  most  of  the 


THE  XE\V  ciioi a.  225 

meii  that  I  am  brought  into  business  and  social  rela- 
tions with  are  church  members,  and,  as  I  have  told 
you,  I  am  daily  consulted  on  parish  matters.  I  am 
inclined  to  think  it  would  pay  me  to  be  a  little  pious, 
too.  What  do  you  think?  Ask  the  elder  what  he 
thinks.  And  had  I  better  confess  recent  conversion, 
and  join  on  confession  of  faith,  as  they  call  it,  or 
would  you  bring  a  letter  of  dismission  from  some 
Eastern  church?  I  suppose  the  elder  could  fix  me  ouj 
with  something  in  proper  form  ;  say  from  Blank  Pres- 
byh;riau  Church  in  some  imaginary  town  iu  Maryland. 

Talk  it  up  with  him. 

MACK. 

Mr.  Pack's  reply  was  prompt  and  characteristic  :  — 

Dear  Mack,  —  The  choir  business  is  a  big  card  for 
you.  Nothing  could  be  better  It's  no  great  sur- 
prise to  me,  though,  but  just  what  I  expected.  The 
I'ldrr  has  been  figuring  on  that  for  some  time,  though 
you  didn't  suspect  it.  He's  just  filled  Rockby  with 
praises  of  your  singing,  and  it  was  through  one  of  his 
sly  little  hints,  conveyed,  no  matter  how,  to  a  certain 
pillar  there,  that  you  came  to  be  invited  to  take  this 
position.  I  did  n't  take  much  stock  in  it  at  first. 
"  What 's  the  use?  "  says  I.  "  You  '11  see,"  says  he  ; 
and  so  I  do.  Oh,  he  's  got  a  head  on  him,  that 
blessed  elder ! 

1  'in  sorry  to  hear  that  you  're  in  love  already.     You 


226  THE  ROCKANOCK  STAGE. 

could  act  more  calmly  and  judiciously  if  you  were 
not.  A  man  in  love  is  apt  to  be  over-eager  and 
anxious  —  can't  trust  Providence,  you  know  —  wants 
to  bring  things  to  an  issue  at  once.  However,  if  you 
are  done  for  already,  we  must  make  the  best  of  it. 
But  be  careful.  Don't  go  too  fast.  A  single  impru- 
dent step  or  word  may  spoil  everything.  Don't,  on 
any  account,  give  her  or  the  major,  or  any  other  living 
soul  in  Rockby,  reason  to  suspect  that  you  are  in  love 
with  her ;  though,  if  by  any  means  short  of  this  you 
can  make  her  love  you,  all  right. 

As  to  the  church  membership  dodge,  the  elder  says 
not  to  try  it.  It 's  a  mighty  hard  thing  to  play  well. 
Besides,  it  would  n't  help  you  a  bit,  he  says.  Sup- 
pose the  girl  isn't  so  religious  as  you  imagiue  ;  then 
she  'd  rather  you  would  n't  be  better  than  she  is  — 
don't  you  see?  On  the  other  hand,  suppose  she  is 
intensely  religious  ;  then  she  'd  naturally  feel  a  special 
interest  in  the  unconverted.  There 's  no  character 
more  fascinating  to  a  Christian  woman,  the  elder  says, 
than  a  moral,  serious-minded,  inquiring  unbeliever. 
She  gets  to  thinking  about  him,  and  pitying  him,  and 
praying  for  him,  and  before  she  knows  it  she  's  in  love 
with  him.  No  mistake  about  it.  You  play  the  inter- 
esting skeptic,  Mack  ;  that 's  the  r61e  for  you  —  the 
man  that  listens  respectfully  to  all  the  minister  says, 
and  thinks  about  it,  and  studies  over  it,  and  wishes  he 


THE  NEW  CHOIR.  227 

could  see  it  in  that  light,  and  sometimes  almost  thinks 
he  does,  etc.,  etc.  That 's  the  most  taking  thing  there 
is"  out.  Then,  by  and  by,  you  talk  with  her  about  it, 
and  let  on  that  she  helps  you  more  than  anybody 
else,  more  even  than  the  minister  ;  and  get  her  to  lend 
you  some  of  her  religious  books,  and  write  out  some 
texts  for  you,  and  make  her  promise  to  pray  for  you. 
Why,  it 's  just  perfectly  irresistible,  my  boy  !  I  know 
that  from  experience.  And  at  last  when  just  the  right 
time  comes,  if  you  can  only  make  the  good  girl  believe 
that  she  could  save  you,  and  that  you  're  lost  forever 
without  her,  you  've  got  her,  sure  ! 

I  can  tell  you  one  thing,  though ;  the  old  major 
is  n't  exactly  what  you  'd  call  hopefully  pious.  You 
don't  want  to  waste  any  bogus  Christianity  before  him. 
Now,  farewell,  and  care  well,  good  Bassanio,  and 
don't  try  to  unlock  your  treasure  box  till  you  get  the 
key,  and  you  will  win  your  Portia  and  her  fortune, 

and  delight  the  heart  of 

Your  fond 

ANTONIO. 

Lucy's  singing  was  a  revelation  to  the  people  of 
Rock  by ;  not  so  much  on  account  of  its  artistic 
excellence,  though  it  was  superior  in  that  respect,  but 
because  of  an  indefinable  something  in  it  that  moved 
the  hearts  of  the  congregation.  The  charm  of  her 
voice,  like  the  beauty  of  her  face,  was  not  in  its  tech- 


228  THE  EOCKANOCK  STAGE. 

nical  perfection,  but  in  the  spiritual  qualities  that 
pervaded  it.  Mr.  MacAllau's  was  notably  lacking  in 
those  qualities,  but  possessed  others  of  recognized 
value.  It  was  a  genuine  tenor,  which  is  something 
of  a  rarity  in  any  community,  and  was  clear,  sweet, 
true,  under  excellent  control,  and  used  with  skill  and 
taste.  People  listened  to  it  with  pleasure,  and  ad- 
mired Mr.  MacAllan  for  its  excellence.  When  Lucy 
sang  they  were  scarcely  conscious  of  a  voice  or  a 
singer,  but  felt  the  power  of  some  holy  feeling  —  joy, 
peace,  adoration,  aspiration.  He  received  many  com- 
pliments :  "  You  were  in  excellent  Voice  this  morning, 
Mr.  MacAllan;"  or,  "Your  solo  was  a  master- 
piece;" or,  "You  covered  yourself  with  glory." 
She  was  seldom  complimented  except  by  ill-bred  peo- 
ple; but  here  and  there  a  head  was  bowed  as  she 
sang ;  here  and  there  an  eye  grew  moist.  If  any  one 
spoke  to  her  of  her  singing,  it  was  commonly  in  grate- 
fulness, rather  than  in  admiration  :  "  It  comforted  me 
so  much ;  "  "  It  came  to  me  like  a  benediction  ;  "  "It 
was  both  a  sermon  and  a  prayer."  Professor  Argyle, 
on  his  usual  search  for  defects,  begged  leave  to  call 
her  attention  to  a  slight  iuaccurac}*  or  two  in  her  pro- 
nunciation, and  Lucy  thanked  him  so  sweetly  for  the 
criticism  that  he  resolved  to  find  some  fault  with  her 
every  week. 

Of  course  on  so  important  a  matter  as  the  church 


THE  NEW  CHOIR.  229 

choir,  the  stage  driver  was  certain  to  have  views, 
and  to  express  them  in  his  own  peculiar  way.  He  had 
frequent  opportunity  to  give  the  benefit  of  them  to  the 
new  tenor,  as  the  latter  now  came  almost  daily  to  the 
stable  where  the  "  good,  sensible  rig,"  which  he  had 
purchased  for  business  and  other  purposes,  was  kept. 
"  Tell  ye  what 't  is,  kunnle,"  said  Lezer,  "  that  'ere 
tribble  's  jest  the  thrillinist,  movinist,  soul-inthusinist 
music  I  ever  heered  in  my  born  days." 

"  Admirable  voice,"  responded  Mr.  MacAllan. 
"Hain't  it,  though?     Don't  it  go  right  through  an' 
through  yer  soul,  kunnle?" 
"  I  enjoy  it  very  much." 

"  Enjoy  it !  I  sh'd  think  you  did.  You  jest  looked 
las'  Sunday  zif  ye  wanted  ter  turn  right  round  an' 
hug  her." 

"  You  must  have  a  pretty  strong  imagination,  my 
friend.  In  reality  I  was  chiefly  occupied  in  following 
my  own  part." 

''  I  s'pose  so.  It 's  a  putty  pertickler  part,  that  'ere 
tenor  is,  too ;  speshually  where  you  lead  off  all  alone 
by  yerself  there  at  the  very  fust  beginniu'  o'  the  piece. 
I  use  ter  sing  tenor,  'fore  I  hed  the  bruukitticks  so 
bad." 

"  I  was  a  little  hoarse  myself  yesterday,"  said 
Mr.  MacAllan,  trying  to  get  a  compliment  from  the 
stage  driver. 


230  THE  ROCKANOCK  STAGE. 

"I  noticed  yer  wuz,"  said  Lezer  frankly,  "but  I 
sorter  laid  that  ter  yer  feelin's." 

"  Did  I  sing  it  with  feeling?  " 

"  Yaasj.yer  seemed  ter  be  under  awful  conviction 
o'  sin." 

"  Conviction  of  sin  !  " 

"  Yaas  ;  a-holleriu'  out,  over  V  over  'n'  over  ag'in, 
for  God  ter  hev  mercy  on  ye." 

"Man  alive!  what  are  you  talking  about?  We 
were  singing  one  of  Baumbach's  quartets,  and  those 
are  the  words  in  the  book,  that 's  all !  " 

"Guess  I  know  that,  kunnle,  I've  sung  Bumble's 
quartets  ever  sence  afore  you  wuz  born.  It  don't 
make  no  odds  who  writ  the  tune,  if  a  feller  only  feels 
the  words  as  you  did  them." 

"  Who  says  I  did  feel  them?"  said  Mr.  MacAllan, 
climbing  into  his  buggy.  "  You  can  no  more  infer 
from  a  choir's  singing,  a  certain  sentiment  that  it  is 
their  own,  than  you  can  infer  that  a  horse  is  mine 
because  I  drive  it." 

Lezer  feigned  the  utmost  astonishment.  "What!" 
said  he,  handing  Mr.  MacAllan  the  reins,  "you  didn't 
mean  it?  an'  ain't  no  sinner?  an'  don't  want  no  mercy? 
Wall,  kuuule,  you  're  enough  to  deceive  the  very  elect, 
you  be." 

"There's  no  deceit  about  it,"  retorted  the  pseudo- 
publican.  "  We  sing  what  is  in  the  book.  It  is  pre- 


THE  NEW  CHOIIi,  231 

sumed  to  be  appropriate  in  a  general  way  ;  but  we  're 
not  responsible  for  the  sentiment." 

"  Then  whudder  yer  sing  it  fer?  " 

"For  the  congregation.  They  are  supposed  to 
comprise  all  the  publicans  and  sinners,  you  know." 

"  Wall,  that  beats  my  time." 

"  What's  the  matter  now?" 

"  To  think  o'  the  way  you  stood  there  an'  bawled 
an'  hollered  for  mercy,  when  ye  did  n't  mean  a  word 
on  't ! " 

"Well,  what  of  it?" 

"Kunnle,  I  begin  to  lose  my  faith  in  everything; 
you  '11  make  a  iuferdel  of  me  yit,  I  know  ye  will." 

"Come,  come,  this  is  nothing  but  some  of  your 
fun !  I  don't  pretend  to  be  pious,  but  I  never  joke 
about  serious  things,  and  I  advise  you  not  to." 

"Kunnle,"  said  Lezer  solemnly,  "them's  mostly 
prayers  you  sing,  ain't  they?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Prob'ly  the  minister  don't  mean  his  prayers  no 
more'n  you  do  yourn." 

"Oh,  yes,  that's  a  different  thing;  that's  a  very 
different  thing.  He  means  his  prayers,  every  word  of 
them,  no  doubt  of  it." 

"Prob'ly  you've  got  a  special  license  tor  use  vain 
reppytishins  in  yourn,  an'  he  hain't.  I  heerd  him 
mention  t'  other  Sunday  about  hyppycrits  and  sich, 


232  THE  ROCKANOCK  STAGE. 

that  draw  nigh  with  the  lips  whilst  ther  hearts  are  fur 
from  Him,  but  I  did  n't  s'pose  he  wuz  alludin'  ter  the 
choir." 

"It  wouldn't  apply  to  the  whole  choir,  anyway. 
I  'm  a  trifle  heathenish  myself,  but  I  'm  pretty  near 
neighbor  to  some  genuine  sincerity,"  said  Mr.  Mac- 
Allan  over  his  shoulder  as  he  drove  away. 

"  You  bet !  "  shouted  Lezer  after  him. 


CHAFFER   XVIII. 

THE    OTTWAY    TRACT. 

A  FEW  days  after  the  church-choir  discussion, 
Mr.  MacAllan  had  occasion  to  seek  the 
stage  driver's  assistance  in  a  matter  of  considerable 
delicacy. 

"  Can  you  fix  me  up  a  double  rig,  Lezer  ?  "  he  asked. 

"What  kind  of  a  rig?" 

"Oh,  something  plain  and  substantial." 

"  Whatcher  want  of  it?  " 

"An  artist  friend  of  mine  is  coming  out  to  spend 
two  or  three  days  with  me,  sketching  and  hunting." 

"  When  ?  " 

"  He  '11  be  out  on  the  morning  train  to-morrow,  and 
we  will  get  away  in  the  afternoon,  so  as  to  be  on  the 
ground  early  on  the  twentieth." 

"  What  ground?" 

"  I  thought  we  'd  go  out  to  the  Ottway  Tract." 

"  Whudder  ye  wanter  go  there  fer?  There  a'n't  no 
chickins  there." 

"  They  say  there  are." 

"Who  says?" 

44  Nat  Jennings." 

233 


234  THE  ROCKAXOCK 


"Well,  he  oughter  know.  Why  don't  ye  use  yer 
own  rig?" 

"I'll  use  it  as  far  as  it  goes.  Give  me  another 
horse  to  put  with  mine,  and  a  two-seat  wagon." 

"  Whudder  ye  want  two  seats  fer?  " 

"Nat  is  going  with  us  and  he'll  have  his  dog  and 
gun  along.  We  shall  have  our  guns,  and  our  provi- 
sions, and  a  shelter  tent  ;  and  probably  my  friend  will 
bring  his  camera." 

"His  which?" 

"  Camera." 

"Some  kind  o'  dog?" 

"  No,  no  !  a  thing  to  take  photographs  with." 

"Oh,  yis  —  sort  o'  box,  sot  up  on  three  legs." 

"That's  the  idea.  I  want  him  to  get  some  views 
of  the  rocks  around  Indian  Bluff." 

"Awful  pooty  rocks  them  be.     What's  his  name?" 

"Who,  my  artist  friend?  Seems  to  me  you're 
rather  overworking  the  interrogation  point  this  morn- 
ing." Mr.  MacAllan  colored  as  he  spoke,  not  with 
resentment,  but  with  embarrassment.  Never  having 
seen  his  artist  friend,  and  having  read  the  name  rather 
carelessly  in  the  letter  from  Pack  which  conveyed  his 
only  information  on  the  subject,  it  had  not  fixed  itself 
in  his  memory. 

"Oh,  ye  needn't  tell  me,  if  it's  a  secret,  nor  gil 
mad  about  it  neither,"  said  Lezer. 


THE   OTTWAY  TRACT.  235 

"  I  'm  not  mad,"  replied  MacAllan,  forcing  a  laugh  ; 
"  the  name  is  Lewis  ;  there  's  no  secret  about  it."  He 
gave  the  name  at  venture,  reflecting  that  one  was  as 
good  as  another  for  Lezer,  and  anything  better  than 
hesitation. 

"  Twentieth  's  Sunday,  a'n't  it?" 

"  Yes,  that's  what  I  don't  like  about  it.  But  Lewis 
is  n't  so  particular  as  I  am  in  such  matters.  Of  course 
I  would  n't  hunt  on  Sunday.  I  shall  go  out  with  them 
Saturday  night  and  set  them  on  the  ground,  come  back 
Sunday  .in  time  for  church  and  go  out  again  Monday 
morning." 

"Glad  yer  so  pious,  kuunle." 

"  How  about  the  team  ?  " 

"  Guess  I  ken  fix  ye  out." 

"  Good  enough  then." 

The  artist  friend  arrived  in  due  time  by  the  Rock- 
anock  stage.  He  was  as  brown  as  a  sailor,  rather 
rakish  looking,  and  did  not  impress  the  unprejudiced 
observer  as  a  highly  aesthetic  nature.  He  bore  a  light 
gun  and  the  reputed  camera.  The  latter  was  carefully 

«* 

wrapped,  but  the  "  legs"  to  which  Lezer  had  alluded 
closely  resembled  a  surveyor's  tripod.  Noting  this 
point,  and  putting  it  with  the  fact  that  Nat  Jennings 
was  surveyor  by  profession,  the  stage  driver  regarded 
the  artist  friend  with  some  suspicion,  and  made  the 
conversation  rather  too  interesting  for  him  as  they 
jogged  along  toward  Rockby. 


236  THE  EOCKAXOCK  STAGE. 

"  Goin'  ter  try  the  prairie  chickins,  eh?  " 

"Yes,  thought,  I'd  go  up  and  celebrate  the  glori- 
ous twentieth  with  my  old  friend  Mac  Allan.  Know 
him?" 

"  Kep'  his  hoss  quite  a  spell  back." 

"  S'pose  he  owns  a  good  one." 

"  Nothin'  extry." 

"Just  like  him.  He  never  went  in  much  for  show, 
Mack  never  did." 

*'  You  've  knowd  him  a  good  while,  probably  ?  " 

"  Bless  you,  yes  !  we  were  boys  together." 

"  Down  in  Illinois?" 

"  Down  in  Illinois." 

"  "What  may  I  call  your  name?  " 

"  Thompson." 

Lezer  was  compelled  to  lean  over  the  side  of  the 
coach  and  examine  the  brake,  while  he  indulged  in  a 
grin  which  he  did  not  care  to  waste  upon  his  passen- 
ger. He  was  now  thoroughly  convinced  that  some 
fraud  was  on  foot.  The  meeting  of  the  two  old  friends 
was  in  Lezer's  presence,  and,  considering  that  it  was 
their  first  interview,  was  a  clever  piece  of  acting. 
Both  were  well  drilled  in  their  parts;  and  the  "My 
dear  fellow !  "  and  the  "  Mack,  old  boy  !  "  the  con- 
vulsive hand-shakings,  and  the  impulsive  slap  on  the 
shoulder  were  capitally  done.  So  was  the  introduction 
to  Mr.  Jennings,  whom  Mr.  MacAllan  presented  to 


THE   OTTWAY   TRACT.  2o7 

his  artist  friend  as  a  Nimrod  of  renown,  who  had 
consented  to  lead  them  to  the  haunt  of  the  prairie 
chicken  and  the  picturesque.  As  Thompson  and 
Jennings  were  fellow  craftsmen  and  acquaintances, 
and  had  planned  this  expedition  together,  these  little 
formalities  were  rather  briefly  disposed  of. 

Toward  evening  the  double  rig,  with  its  proper 
load,  quietly  left  the  livery  stable  and  turned  west- 
ward toward  the  Ottway  Tract.  A  young  farmer  was 
in  the  stable  at  the  time,  splicing  a  broken  whiplash, 
while  he  waited  for  his  horses  to  finish  their  oats. 
He  apparently  took  no  notice  of  the  double  rig. 

"  Whudder  ye  think  now,  Josh?"  said  Lezer  to  him 
as  the  sportsmen  drove  away. 

"Help  me  hitch  up,"  answered  Josh;  "I'll  keep 
an  eye  on  that  crowd." 

Josh  Martin  was  Lezer's  cousin  and  lived  on  the 
Ottway  Tract.  Lezer  had  acquainted  him  with  the 
history  of  the  present  expedition,  the  discrepancies 
in  names  and  statements,  the  suspicious  circumstances 
and  appearances,  and  his  own  surmises.  "  Oh,  they  're 
goin'  htmtin' !  "  he  said  ;  "  not  a  doubt  of  it,  Josh  !  " 

"  They  're  goin'  ter  hunt  section  stakes,  that's  what 
they  're  goin'  ter  hunt,"  replied  the  cousin. 

The  Ottway  Tract  comprised  several  thousand  acres 
of  land,  the  title  to  which  had  been  obscured  through 
the  carelessness  or  ignorance  of  early  owners.  About 


233  THE  ROCKANOCK  STAGE. 

one  half  of  it  was  now  unoccupied.  The  rest  was 
held  in  small  quantities  by  a  score  or  more  settlers, 
some  of  whom,  like  Josh  Martin,  had  bought  their 
farms  in  good  faith,  with  no  knowledge  of  the  sins  of 
their  predecessors,  while  others  had  secured  what  they 
knew  to  be  defective  titles  at  very  low  figures.  All 
were  now  aware  of  the  insecurity  of  their  claims  ;  but 
as  they  believed  that  any  counter-claims  must  be  still 
less  valid,  they  were  resolved  to  maintain  their  own 
rights  as  best  they  could. 

Mr.  Pack's  hint  of  an  intention  to  put  a  cloud  on 
this  tract  was  no  jest.  He  had  been  studying  the 
Ottway  titles  for  years,  and,  as  Mr.  Krauntz's 
attorney,  had  bought  the  interests,  such  as  they  were, 
of  a  number  of  claimants.  But  he  very  well  knew 
the  sensitiveness  of  the  present  occupants  on  the 
subject  of  titles,  and  the  sort  of  confederation, 
defensive  aud  offensive,  in  which  they  were  bound 
together. 

When  it  became  necessary,  therefore,  to  locate  the 
boundaries  of  the  tract,  preparatory  to  some  decisive 
proceedings,  he  acted  with  the  greatest  caution.  The 
services  of  a  trustworthy,  that  is  unscrupulous,  sur- 
veyor were  secured,  who  knew  Nat  Jennings,  equally 
unscrupulous.  After  a  number  of  impracticable  prop- 
ositions had  been  canvassed,  the  hunting  and  sketch- 
ing idea  was  hit  upon  aud  adopted  by  acclamation. 


THE  OTTWAY   TRACT.  239 

The  initial  movement  had  reference  only  to  the 
unoccupied  portion  of  the  tract.  That  must  first  be 
secured  ;  afterward  the  work  of  dispossessing  actual 
occupants  could  be  pursued  at  leisure. 

The  invading  party  went  on  its  way  confident  yet 
wary.  It  did  not  proceed  directly  to  the  tract,  but, 
making  a  long  detour  through  byways  and  logging 
roads,  and  now  and  then  a  pathless  thicket,  emerged 
at  last  into  a  remote  part  of  the  tract,  out  of  sight 
and  hearing  of  the  nearest  settler. 

Had  Mr.  Jack  Thompson  been  really  an  artist, 
instead  of  a  mercenary  scamp  of  a  civil  engineer,  he 
might  have  found  the  scene  worthy  of  his  professional 
attention.  At  their  feet  flowed  a  pretty  stream  — the 
main  tributary  of  the  Onouo — fringed  with  verdure 
and  overhung  with  elms  and  willows.  On  one  side  of 
it  stretched  a  broad  prairie  meadow,  waving  with 
many-colored  grasses,  yellow,  olive,  brown,  green, 
and  gray.  On  the  other  side  rose  the  bluffs,  first 
gently  sloping,  with  park-like  groves  of  oak  and  thick 
greensward  sprinkled  with  white  blossoms  ;  then  steep, 
broken  declivities,  with  here  and  there  perpendicular 
or  overhanging  cliffs,  looking  like  walls  of  ancient 
masonry.  A  transverse  ravine,  cutting  through  slope 
and  rocks,  opened  a  vista  among  the  lindens  and 
poplars  and  furnished  a  channel  for  a  babbling 
brook. 


240  THE  ROCKAXOCK  STAGE. 

But  the  beauty  of  the  scene  was  quite  lost  upon  the 
present  party,  and  such  a  thing  as  a  sketch  or  a 
photograph  was  not  thought  of.  The  horses  were  un- 
harnessed and  tethered  to  convenient  trees.  The  tent 
was  pitched  in  the  ravine.  The  camera  was  unmasked 
and  set  upon  its  tripod  — an  undeniable  theodolite. 

"  Now,  my  artist  friend,"  said  Nat,  pulling  out  a 
large  chart  of  the  tract  and  unfolding  it  upon  the 
grass  between  himself  and  Thompson,  "suppose  we 
see  if  we  can  find  that  corner  stake  and  run  a  line 
or  two  before  dark." 

"Can  I  be  of  any  service?"  asked  Mr.  Mac-Allan. 

"  Maybe  you  might  take  your  gun  and  the  dog  and 
shoot  us  a  medder  lark  for  supper." 

"Meadow  lark  !  " 

"Certainly.  The  chicken  law  a'n't  off  till  twelve 
o'clock  to-night,  so  you  can't  shoot  a  chicken  unless 
it 's  strictly  in  self-defense.  Of  course  if  a  chicken 
attacks  you,  you  have  a  right  to  defend  yourself ;" 
and  Jennings  winked  knowingly  at  the  artist  friend,  as 
if  the  old  jest  were  his  own  and*  freshly  coined. 

"Where  do  you  think  I  should  be  safest?"  asked 
Mac  Allan  with  his  gun  in  his  hand,  while  the  Irish 
setter  whined  and  leaped  around  him  most  frantically. 

"  Well,  up  to  the  top  o'  the  bluff  there 's  some 
blueb'ry  bushes.  That 's  a  great  place  for  chickens. 
Be  careful  and  not  go  in  there." 


THE  OTTWAY  TRACT.  241 

"  Certainly." 

"  However,"  continued  Nat,  "  you  won't  be  likely 
to  meet  up  with  any  chickens  to-night.  They  won't 
be  out  till  to-morrow.  If  you  see  any  good-sized 
kind  of  gray-brown  birds,  that  fly  off  with  a  whiz  and 
a  whir,  tlu-y  're  inedder  larks.  Blaze  away  at  'em." 

Mr.  MacAllan  slowly  climbed  the  bluff,  the  eager 
setter  unwillingly  obeying  his  sharp  "To  heel!  to 
heel ! "  Once  upon  the  summit  he  turned  to  survey 
the  scene,  which  drew  from  him  an  exclamation  of 
surprise  and  pleasure. 

"Faith!"  said  he,  "there's  a  bit  of  landscape 
worth  coveting !  I  wish  somebody  was  here  to  enjoy 
it  too.  I  must  describe  it  to  her." 

It  occurred  to  him,  however,  that  he  would  not  like 
to  give  Miss  Darling  an  account  of  the  present  expe- 
dition or  have  her  know  anything  about  it.  The  more 
he  thought  of  her  the  more  distasteful  the  business 
became  to  him.  The  petty  pretenses  and  falsehoods 
to  which  he  had  been  driven  seemed  almost  criminal 
when  looked  at  through  her  eyes. 

"  Yet,"  said  he  in  self-defense,  "  it  is  all  a  part  of 
a  scheme  undertaken  on  her  account.  When  once  I 
have  won  her,  she  shall  make  me  as  strict  a  Puritan  as 
herself.  For  the  present  I  must  be  a  publican  and  a 
sinner  for  her  s:ikc." 

Oil  the  edge  of  the  bluff  where  he  stood  at  a  point 


242  THE  ROCKANOCK  STAGE. 

overlooking  the  camp  below,  the  bare  soft  sand  in  a 
hollow  of  the  rock  bore  fresh  footprints.  Two  men 
had  evidently  stood  there  not  long  before.  One  wore 
heavy-soled  boots  thickly  set  with  iron  nails,  the  other 
was  barefoot.  "Footprints  on  the  sands  of  time," 
said  Mr.  MacAllan ;  though  he  failed  to  experience 
the  cheering  effect  ascribed  to  such  vestiges  by  Mr. 
Longfellow,  and  looked  about  rather  nervously  for 
their  authors.  He  frankly  admitted  that  the  presence 
of  strangers  would  be  at  this  moment  exceedingly 
objectionable.  "  No  shipwrecked  brother  in  mine,  if 
you  please,"  he  said,  peering  in  this  direction  and 
in  that. 

But  there  was  no  sign  of  human  life  anywhere  ;  and 
calling  his  dog  he  pursued  his  search  for  meadow 
larks.  Soon  he  came  to  blueberry  bushes  loaded  with 
delicious  fruit,  which  he  stripped  off  in  handfuls  as  he 
walked.*  The  dog  ranged  back  and  forth  before  him, 
covering  every  yard  of  the  ground,  his  nose  now  in 
the  grass  and  now  in  the  air.  At  length,  as  the  keen- 
scented  creature  was  passing  a  low  thicket,  he  sud- 
denly stopped,  crouching  a  little,  with  one  foot  lifted, 
nose  and  tail  extended,  and  the  hair  rising  along  the 
rigid  spine. 

"  Steady,  Don  !  steady  !  "  said  the  excited  hunter. 
He  had  never  seen  a  live  prairie  chicken,  but  he  had 
seen  something  of  dogs  and  knew  these  signs  well. 


THE   OTTWAY   TRACT.  243 

"  Steady,  old  boy ! "  he  repeated,  walking  hurriedly 
forward  with  cocked  gun,  and  needing  the  word  of 
caution  far  more  than  Don  did. 

Suddenly  —  whir  —  whir  —  whir  —  whir  —  from  the 
grass  close  to  Don's  nose,  and  from  the  bushes  on 
the  right  and  on  the  left,  and  almost  from  under  the 
very  feet  of  the  hunter  himself,  sprang  bird  after 
bird  till  the  air  seemed  full  of  them,  great,  clumsy 
creatures,  dashing  away  in  terror  in  every  direction. 

It  \v:ts  not  the  law  that  restrained  Mr.  Allan 
MacAllan,  and  held  him  spellbound  in  the  presence 
of  his  prey.  It  was  that  paralysis  which  so  often 
seizes  the  hunter  under  the  excitements  and  surprises 
of  his  sport,  ami  which  no  game  is  more  likely  to 
produce  than  a  harmless  covey  of  prairie  chickens. 
Mr.  MacAllan  had  not  really  expected  them.  He  had 
associated  prairie  chickens  with  prairies  —  with  wheat 
and  corn  and  thick  grass,  and  not  with  blueberries  and 
hilltops. 

But  by  the  time  the  last  of  the  covey  was  out  of 
reach,  he  awoke  to  the  fact  that  he  had  a  gun  in  his 
hand.  "  What  an  idiot  I  "  he  exclaimed.  Don  seemed 
to  think  so,  too,  and  could  only  with  the  greatest 
ditliculty  be  restrained  from  returning  to  his  master. 
"  Don't  leave  me  yet,  Don,"  said  the  crestfallen 
sportsman.  "Give  me  one  more  chance,  there's  a 
good  dog,  and  I  will  show  you  what  I  can  do." 


244  THE  EOCKANOCK  STAGE. 

Don  at  last  consented,  and  led  the  way,  rather  dis- 
piritedly, in  the  direction  which  the  grouse  had  taken. 
It  was  hard  work  finding  the  scattered  birds,  and  the 
shooting  was  at  long  range,  and  not  always  successful. 
But  just  at  dark  hunter  and  dog  came  wearily  into 
camp  with  five  plump  prairie  chickens.  "  What  do 
you  call  them?"  asked  MacAllan  as  he  threw  them 
down. 

"Them?"  said  Nat,  surveying  them  critically,  on 
his  way 'to  the  fire  with  the  coffee  pot  in  his  hand. 
"  Them  's  medder  larks,  ain't  they,  Jack?  " 

"I  should  say  so,  under  the  circumstances,"  replied 
Mr.  Thompson,  "  though  they  're  a  little  large  of  their 
age,  maybe." 

"  How  many  do  we  want  for  supper?  " 

"  Better  cook  'em  all.  We  're  pretty  middling  hun- 
gry, and  undressed  larks  might  bring  us  bad  luck. 
Dress  'em  quick,  and  burn  up  every  last  feather." 

A  bed  of  glowing  coals  was  prepared  ;  the  birds 
were  stripped  of  their  skin,  their  breasts  and  legs 
were  carefully  broiled,  and  the  rest  was  thrown  into 
the  fire.  ""We  might  have  an  evening  call,"  remarked 
Nat.  "  The  neighbors  about  here  are  pretty  sociable, 
and  would,  like  as  not,  want  to  know  where  we  found 
such  fine,  great  larks." 

Nat  was  an  adept  at  camp  cookery,  and  what  with 
his  skill  and  the  appetites  of  his  companions  th". 


THE   OTTWAY   TRACT.  245 

supper  seemed  the  most  sumptuous  feast  of  their  lives. 
What  remained,  a  generous  remnant,  was  saved  for 
the  morrow's  lunch. 

"  Did  you  fiud  the  stakes  ? "  asked  MacAllan  as 
they  lounged  around  the  camp  fire,  made  doubly  ac- 
ceptable by  the  mosquitoes  and  the  coolness  of  the 
August  night. 

"We  did  that,"  replied  Nat;  "got  our  northwest 
corner  safe  and  sure,  and  run  the  lines  to  the  half- 
section  stakes  both  ways.  To-morrow  morning  we 
will  start  in  at  daylight,  and  work  on  around  with  our 
compasses  and  hatchets  as  near  the  clearing  as  we 
dare  to  go.  By  Monday  night  we  '11  have  everything 
traced  out  and  set  down  in  black  and  white." 

"Then  what?" 

"  Shoot  a  chicken  or  two  to  save  appearances,  and 
go  home  the  way  we  came." 

"And  what  next?" 

tk  Haul  a  load  of  lumber  out  here  some  dark  night, 
build  a  shanty  before  daylight,  set  a  young  couple  to 
housekeeping  in  it,  and  open  the  campaign." 

The  campaign  was  fully  discussed  by  the  three  men 
till  the  fire  burned  low,  and  they  retired  to  the  tent. 
It  was  mentally  continued  by  Mr.  MacAllan  long  after 
his  companions  were  soundly  sleeping  by  his  side. 
To  tell  the  truth,  there  were  many  things  in  the  situa- 
tion which  did  not  incline  him  to  drowsiness.  He 


246  THE  ROCKANOCK  STAGE. 

fancied  that  lie  beard  a  twig  snap  behind  the  tent, 
followed  by  a  succession  of  half-subdued  noises,  as  if 
some  one  were  retreating  stealthily  toward  the  bluff. 
An  owl  hooted  overhead.  A  wolf  howled  in  the  dis- 
tance. Some  small  animal  trotted  by,  calling  forth  a 
sleepy  growl  from  Don.  Jennings  snored  loudly,  and 
Thompson  muttered  in  his  sleep.  The  sense  of  the 
disreputableness  of  the  expedition  returned  upon  him 
with  redoubled  force.  He  reflected  upon  the  events  of 
the  last  three  months,  and  the  life  of  scheming  and 
plotting  in  which  he  had  allowed  himself  to  be  in- 
volved. He  determined  to  break  away  from  it  at  the 
earliest  possible  moment,  and  try  to  be  such  a  man  as 
Lucy  Darling  could  respect. 

Yet  how  could  he  escape  the  toils  of  his  confeder- 
ates? To  break  with  them  now  would  ruin  everything. 
Perhaps  he  might  have  won  the  girl's  heart  by  honora- 
ble means,  had  he  begun  in  a  straightforward  way, 
perhaps  not.  At  any  rate,  there  was  no  retreat  now. 
So  he  came  back  to  his  former  resolution,  to  secure 
his  prize  at  any  cost,  making  the  end  justify  the 
means.  This  accomplished,  he  would  forego  all  fraud 
and  duplicity,  and  be  thenceforth  anything  she  wished. 

"One  thing  I  will  do,"  said  he   to   himself,  "the 

* 
very  first  chance  I  get.     I  will  ask  the  dear  girl   to 

pray  for  me ;  not  for  the  selfish  reason  suggested  by 
Pack,  but  because  I  really  feel  the  need  of  it.  I 


THE   OTTWAY   TRACT.  247 

would  give  something  to  knotv  she  had  prayed  for  me 
to-night."  "\Vith  this  reflection,  ami  believing  that  he 
had  brought  himself  to  a  very  pious  frame  of  mind, 
he  fell  asleep. 

When  he  awoke  the  sun  was  shining  in  his  face 
through  the  tent  door  ;  but  he  found  himself  shivering 
with  cold  and  aching  from  the  hardness  of  his  bed. 
The  romance  of  camp  life,  which  had  so  often  dazzled 
his  imagination,  seemed  a  cruel  delusion.  He  com- 
placently assured  himself  that  he  was  too  refined,  too 
highly  civilized,  to  enjoy  the  life  of  a  savage. 

His  companions  had  gone,  probably  two  hours 
before,  in  what  direction  he  could  only  conjecture. 
Don  had  followed  his  master.  The  surveyors  had 
evidently  taken  a  hurried  meal  and  left  Mr.  MacAllan 
to  look  out  for  himself.  He  went  to  the  stream,  bathed 
his  hands  and  face,  and  with  the  help  of  a  pocket 
comb  and  glass  completed  a  very  unsatisfactory  toilet, 
followed  by  an  equally  unsatisfactory  breakfast. 

It  was  the  twentieth  day  of  August,  alluded  to  by 
the  deceitful  artist  friend  as  "  the  glorious  twen- 
tieth." To-day  a  lark  was  a  lark,  and  a  grouse  a 
grouse,  and  shooting  was  not  limited  to  acts  of  self- 
defense.  But  Mr.  MacAllan  had  other  duties  to 
perform.  It  was  Sunday,  and  he  dared  not  absent 
himself  from  the  choir.  Harnessing  his  team,  he 
returned  to  Rockby  in  season  to  make  his  very  best 


248  THE  ROCKANOCK  STAGE. 

toilet  and  present  himself  at  the  proper  hour  in  the 
choir  gallery.  There,  standing  by  Lucy's  side,  he 
sang  with  fervent  iteration,  all  the  way  up  to  high  A 
and  back  again,  that  he  was  glad  when  they  said  unto 
him,  "  Let  us  go  into  the  house  of  the  Lord." 


'  CHAPTER  XIX. 

THE    CHARMS    OF    SOLITUDE. 

AN  early  drive  ou  Monday  morning  brought  Mr. 
-*-.-*-  MacAllan  again  to  the  camp  which,  as  he  had 
expected,  he  found  temporarily  deserted.  Securing 
tin1  team,  as  he  had  seen  the  surveyors  do  on  Saturday, 
he  shouldered  his  gun  and  sauntered  away  in  a  direc- 
tion in  which  he  had  once  or  twice  imagined  he  heard 
voices.  After  walking  perhaps  a  quarter  of  a  mile 
he  came  to  a  small,  grassy  lake  where,  to  his  surprise, 
he  discovered  a  fine  flock  of  mallard  ducks.  They 
had  evidently  nested  there,  for  there  were  half  a 
dozen  old  birds,  and  a  score  or  more  of  young  ones, 
two  thirds  grown.  A  shot  froni  Mr.  MacAllan's  gun 
sent  consternation  and  death  ainong  them.  A  second 
followed  them  in  their  flight.  With  the  help  of  the 
wind,  a  long  pole,  and  a  little  wading  he  secured  four 
birds,  while  two  or  three  others  lodged  in  the  grass 
beyond  hia  reach. 

Life  began  to  look  brighter  to  Mr.  MacAllan.  He 
patted  the  bulging  pockets  of  his  hunting  coat,  and 
felt  somewhat  less  anxious  to  find  his  companions. 
In  the  distance  he  heard  a  loud,  clear  whistle.  "  Ha, 

249 


250  THE   ROCKAXOCK  STAGE. 

ha,  Mr.  Bob  White  !  "  said  he,  "I  will  give  you  a  call, 
too,  if  you  please." 

A  little  skulking  brought  him  in  sight  of  the  plump 
fellow  standing  on  a  stump,  as  straight  and  pompous 
as  a  drum  major.  A  moment  later  the  black  crest 
rolled  on  the  grass,  while  the  mother  bird  and  her  half- 
grown  brood  flew  into  the  thicket. 

Mr.  Mac  Allan  had  expected,  when  he  discharged 
his  gun,  to  hear  responsive  shots  from  Jennings  and 
Thompson,  to  direct  him  to  them  ;  but  no  such  re- 
spouse  came.  For  a  time  the  solitude  did  not  annoy 
him.  He  felt  himself  a  mighty  hunter,  free  as  the 
birds.  Let  the  surveyors  go  their  own  way  ;  he  would 
go  his  till  they  chose  to  return.  He  had  in  his  mind 
a  very  definite  idea  of  the  direction  and  distance  of 
the  camp,  and  could,  as  he  thought,  go  to  it  whenever 
he  was  so  disposed. 

At  last  he  was  so  disposed.  He  had  bagged 
another  quail,  a  partridge,  a  fox-squirrel,  and  a  gray 
rabbit.  His  game  pockets  became  oppressively  full. 
"  Let  me  see,"  said  he,  "  the  camp  is  right  over  there, 
and  not  half  a  mile  off,  on  a  bee  line." 

He  made  the  half  mile  over  ground  which  seemed 
unfamiliar.  The  camp  was  not  there.  He  must  have 
gone  farther  away  than  he  was  aware.  He  walked 
another  half  mile.  Still  no  camp  !  In  the  distance 
he  saw  the  tops  of  tall  trees  through  which  rocks  were 


THE   C/y.i/.M/'V   OF  SOLITUDE.  251 

visible  ;  that  was  certainly  the  place.  But  when  lie 
reached  it,  no  camp  was  there.  He  began  to  fear  that 
he  was  lost.  After  two  hours  more  of  fruitless  wan- 
dering he  was  certain  of  it.  The  sun  had  disappeared, 
hidden  by  clouds  that  grew  thicker  and  thicker,  and 
threatened  rain.  He  had  no  means  of  judging  of  the 
points  of  the  compass,  but  felt  unmistakable  signs  of 
hunger  and  fatigue. 

With  great  effort  he  climbed  a  high  tree  on  the  edge 
of  the  bluff,  but  came  down  no  wiser  for  his  pains. 
lie  bfgan  to  feel  serious  alarm.  He  had  read  many 
accounts  of  similar  experiences,  followed  by  days  of 
bewildered  wanderings,  and  ending  in  starvation  or 
delirium.  He  remembered  that  lost  men  commonly 
walked  around  and  around  in  dreadful  circles,  as  if 
they  were  sucked  into  the  currents  of  a  sort  of  sylvan 
maelstrom,  from  which  they  could  not  escape;  and 
wondered  if  such  a  fate  awaited  him.  He  imagined 
himself  perishing  in  the  woods;  the  surveyors  missing 
him,  looking  for  him,  and  giving  him  up  for  lost;  a 
search  party  organized  to  find  him  and,  after  many 
days,  discovering  his  dead  body  ;  the  paragraphs  in  the 
papers ;  the  comments  of  the  public ;  the  funeral 
services ;  the  remarks  of  Mr.  Austin ;  the  subdued 
singing  of  the  choir,  with  a  strange  voice  for  the 
tenor.  How  would  Lucy  feel  about  it?  Would  she 
miss  him?  Would  she  shed  a  tear  to  his  memory? 


252  THE  KOCKANOCK 


Would  she  own  to  herself  that  she  had  some  fond 
regard  for  him?  It  would  be  a  satisfaction  to  believe 
that  he  had  touched  her  heart,  even  by  his  death, 
though  it  would  do  him  little  good  then. 

What  would  Pack  say?  What  would  Krauntz  do? 
Foreclose  his  mortgage  ?  Bring  his  claims  openly 
against  the  estate?  Make  their  schemes  and  bargains 
public?  This  last  consideration  came  to  his  benumbed 
faculties  like  a  thrashing  to  a  freezing  man. 

"  I  will  never  submit  to  such  a  fate  as  that!"  he 
exclaimed  desperately.  "  There  is  a  way  out  of  these 
woods,  and  out  of  these  woods  I  must  and  will  go  !  " 

Fixing  his  eye  upon  a  distant  tree  he  walked  to  it, 
selected  another  and  went  to  that,  and  so  on  from 
tree  to  tree,  preserving  the  same  general  direction 
with  the  greatest  caution,  but  unable  to  conjecture 
what  that  direction  was. 

He  had  proceeded  in  this  way  for  more  than  an 
hour,  and  had  followed  his  uudeviating  course  to  the 
top  of  another  of  the  high  and  precipitous  bluffs  with 
which  the  region  abounded,  when,  to  his  unutterable 
relief,  he  saw  below  him  a  stretch  of  open  country 
with  roads  and  houses  and  cultivated  fields.  The 
nearest  dwelling  was  a  small,  new  log  house,  perhaps 
one  fourth  of  a  mile  from  where  he  stood.  On  the 
side  next  him  was  a  porch  formed  by  the  continuation 
of  the  roof.  Vines  were  climbing  its  rude  posts,  and 


THE  CHARMS  OF  SOLITUDE.  253 

in  the  door  he  could  see  a  woman  sitting  with  a  child 
in  her  anus.  He  thought  he  had  never  looked  upon 
a  scene  so  beautiful.  So  vividly  did  it  impress  itself 
upon  his  excited  mind  that  every  minute  feature  of  it 
—  the  cobble-work  chimney,  the  thin,  blue  smoke 
issuing  from  it,  the  milk  pans  on  the  wood  pile,  the 
chickens,  the  clothes  line  with  its  unintentionally 
patriotic  display  of  red,  white,  and  blue,  the  kitchen 
garden,  the  stumps  among  the  grass  —  seemed  to  be 
instantaneously  photographed  upon  his  brain,  never  to 
be  effaced.  • 

A  quarter  of  a  mile  through  swamps  and  thickets 
was  a  \\t-ai v  distance  to  a  man  in  his  present  state  of 
exhaustion  ;  and  it  was  nearly  half  an  hour  before  the 
woman  with  the  baby  in  her  arms,  .lifting  her  face 
from  the  forehead  of  the  sleeping  child,  saw  approach- 
ing her  a  man  who  looked  like  a  dying  bandit.  She 
sprang  to  her  feet  in  undisguised  alarm  ;  but  seeing 
in  the  haggard  face  more  occasion  for  pity  than  for 
fear,  she  remained  standing  and  waited  for  him  to 
speak. 

Mr.  MacAllan  had  life  enough  in  him  to  explain 
his  predicament  to  her,  and  even  to  lie  a  little  about 
it,  and  to  ask  her  for  a  morsel  of  food  and  the  nearest 
way  to  Rockby. 

She  did  not  invite  him  in,  but  set  before  him  on  the 
porch  an  ample  white  loaf  with  an  abundance  of 


254  THE  ROCKANOCK  STAGE. 

delicious  butter  and  sweet,  rich  milk,  all  of  which 
seemed  like  angels'  food  to  her  guest.  As  his  strength 
and  spirits  revived  he  ventured  upon  some  conversa- 
tion, and  with  so  much  tact  and  deference  that  she 
responded  without  hesitation,  tilling  him  who  they 
were,  whence  they  came,  how  they  had  bought  the 
farm,  what  plans  they  had  made  concerning  it.  She 
was  a  comely  young  woman,  not  older  than  Lucy,  and 
not  unlike  her  in  stature  and  complexion. 

She  and  her  husband  had  taken  their  bridal  trip  in 
an  emigrant  wagon  eighteen  month^  before. 

"  It  's  hard  work,  sir,"  she  said,  "  but  we  are  both 
young  and  well,  and  if  we  are  prospered  will  have  the 
farm  paid  for  all  clear  in  seven  or  eight  years.  Then, 
as  my  husband  says,  we  are  fixed  for  life." 

"  I  trust  your  hopes  will  be  more  than  realized," 
said  the  guest  politely. 

"  Thank  you,  sir,"  she  replied.     "  They  say  there 

v 

is  some  question  about  the  title.  I  don't  know.  "We 
heard  nothing  of  it  when  we  bought,  and  Mr.  Rice 
always  poohs  at  it  before  me.  But  I  know  he  's  not 
quite  so  easy  in  his  mind  as  he  pretends  to  be,  and  I 
overheard  the  neighbors  talking  with  him  about  land 
sharks  and  land  pirates,  whatever  they  are,  I  don't 
know." 

"  I  hope  you  never  will  know,"  said  Mr.  MacAllan, 
coloring. 


THE   CHARMS   OF  SOLITUDE.  255 

"Oh,  I  hope  not!  I  dou't  see  how  any  one  can 
want  to  take  our  little  home  away  from  us." 

"It  would  be  an  outrageous  thing  to  do,"  said  Mr. 
MacAllan. 

"  Yet,"  said  she  with  a  little  sigh,  "  it  would  be 
harder  on  some  others  than  on  us.  We  are  young,  as 
John  says,  and  could  make  a  new  home  somewhere 
else ;  but  there  are  the  Winters  over  here ;  they  are 
old  people,  barely  able  to  take  care  of  themselves. 
If  they  were  to  lose  their  place,  they  would  have  to  go 
to  the  poorhouse.  Then  there  are  the  Jileses.  Mr. 
Jiles  is  an  invalid,  and  his  wife  and  two  young  boys 
carry  on  the  farm.  What  could  they  do?  Qr  Mrs. 
Truesdell,  who  is  a  widow?  Think  of  it !  and  she  the 
earliest  settler  on  the  Ottway  Tract." 

Mr.  MacAllan  winced  at  the  last  two  words.  Was 
it  possible  that  he  was  still  on  the  Ottway  Tract,  and 
that  the  scheme  to  which  he  was  committed  involved 
the  ejectment  of  these  worthy  people,  and  perhaps  the 
reduction  of  some  of  them  to  beggary  or  starvation? 
It  seemed  to  put  the  business  in  a  very  different  light. 

"  I  trust  your  fears  will  prove  groundless,  madam," 
he  said,  rising. 

She  made  no  response  to  this  remark,  and  offered 
no  objection  to  his  departure.  She  firmly  declined 
the  money  which  he  offered  for  his  dinner,  but  read- 
ily pointed  out  the  Rockby  road.  Could  he  find 


256  THE  ROCKANOGK  STAGE. 

some  one  to  carry  him  home?  She  did  not  know. 
Perhaps  one  of  the  Martins  might.  They  lived  beyond 
the  four  corners,  half  a  mile  away.  He  could  inquire. 

"  She  suspects  me,"  he  said  to  himself  as  he  walked 
away.  He  had  never  before  felt  so  much  like  a 
criminal  and  an  outcast.  "It  is  a  mean,  contempti- 
ble piece  of  business,"  be  exclaimed,  "  and  I  will 
take  myself  out  of  it,  fortune  or  no  fortune  !  " 

When  he  readied  the  four  corners  he  saw  a  common 
farm  wagon,  containing  two  men,  approaching  from  a 
direction  at  right  angles  with  his  own.  Hoping  it 
would  turn  toward  Rockby,  or  might  be  induced  to  do 
so,  he  sat  down  upon  a  wayside  stone  and  awaited  its 
approach.  The  occupants  scrutinized  him  with  sur- 
prising interest  and  stopped  of  their  own  accord. 

"  Good  day,  neighbors,"  said  he  blandly,  "  are  you 
going  toward  Rockby  ?  " 

"  What  if  I  was?  "  asked  the  driver  bluffly. 

"I  would  make  it  worth  your  while  to  give  me  a 
ride.  I  have  had  a  hard  tramp,  and  am  about  played 
out." 

"  Get  right  in,"  said  the  man. 

"  You  are  going  my  way,  then?  " 

"  Your  way  exactly,  or  you  are  going  ours,  which- 
ever you  please.  Get  in." 

The  answer  did  not  seem  very  gracious,  but  the 
hunter  was  in  no  mood  for  criticism,  and  climbed  into 


"Hi.   Svr   DOWN    I'roN   A    WAISIM-;   SIOM.    \M.   A  WAITED 
I  i  -    ArriioAni." 


THE   CHARMS   OF  SOLITUDE.  L}57 

the  wagon  without  loss  of  time.     To  his  surprise   it 
turned  about  and  went  back  the  way  it  came. 

"  Why,  is  this  the  way?"  he  asked. 

"  Nighest  way  there  is,"  replied  the  driver. 

"Then  you  are  going  back  to  accommodate  me? 
That  is  making  you  too  much  trouble,  I  fear." 

"  No  trouble  at  all,  mister,"  said  the  driver,  wink- 
ing hard  at  his  companion.     "  We  'd  rather  do  it  than 
not."     Both  men  broke. into  a  laugh  which  the  pas-* 
senger  supposed  to  have  reference  to  the  compensation 
which  they  hoped  to  receive  from  him. 

"  Well,  I  '11  make  it  right  with  you,"  said  he. 

u  I  expect  so,"  responded  the  driver,  and  the  laugh 
was  repeated. 

Mr.  MacAllan  began  to  feel  a  trifle  uncomfortable 
in  their  society,  though  he  hardly  knew  why.  The 
ride  was  continued  for  some  time  in  silence.  After  a 
while  they  came  to  a  small  village. 

"  What  place  is  this?  "  he  asked. 

"Turableville." 

"Well,  indeed,  I  am  much  farther  from  home  than 
I  supposed." 

"  Yes,  quite  a  ways,"  remarked  the  driver,  pulling 
up  before  a  low,  dingy  building,  at  the  side  of  whose 
door  was  a  strip  of  tin  on  which  was  legible,  "  T. 
Cherrycake,  Justice  of  Peace."  Several  men  and  boys 
were  lounging  about  the  door,  and  others  were  coming 
from  various  directions. 


258  THE  ROCKANOCK  STAGE. 

"  We  shall  have  to  get  out  here  for  a  few  minutes," 
said  the  man  who  was  not  driving.  tb  Let  me  hold 
your  gun  while  you  step  out."  He  spoke  in  so  matter- 
of-fact  a  tone,  it  seemed  impertinent  to  ask  an  expla- 
nation. Mr.  Mac-Allan  handed  him  the  gun.  "Just 
step  in  here  while  we  're  waiting,  please,"  said  the 
man,  speaking  over  his  shoulder,  in  the  same  tone  as 
before. 

*  Mr.  MacAllan  thought  it  all  very  strange,  but  was 
in  a  condition,  mentally  and  physically,  which  made 
compliance  easier  than  resistance,  or  even  inquiry, 
and  followed  the  man  with  the  gun  into  the  room  to 
which  he  led  him.  The  crowd,  for  the  most  part,  fol- 
lowed too.  Within,  at  a  small  desk,  with  two  or 
three  greasy,  leather-bound  volumes,  and  a  chaos  of 
papers  upon  it,  sat  a  bald-headed,  sharp-featured  man 
with  a  pen  in  his  hand. 

"  Well,  you've  made  the  arrest,  I  see,  Mr.  Sheriff," 
he  said. 

"  No,  I  ha'n't  exackly  arrested  him  yit,  square," 
replied  the  man  with  the  gun,  laying  the  weapon 
aside  and  drawing  a  paper  from  his  pocket,  "but  I 
will  to-rights.  You  see  he  ast  to  ride,  and  come 
right  along  with  us,  nolums  volums,  as  you  may  say, 
so  I  thought  there  wa'u't  no  hurry  about  arresting 
him." 

"  What  does  all  this  mean?"  demanded  MacAllan. 


THE   CHARMS   OF  SOLITUDE.  259 

"  Silence  iii  the  court !  "  cried  the  justice.  "  Sher- 
iff, serve  your  papers  !  " 

The  sheriff  stepped  before  Mr.  MacAllan,  and, 
unfolding  the  paper  in  his  hand,  said:  — 

"  This  here  is  a  warrant  against  you  for  breaking 
the  bird  law.  You  're  my  prisoner." 

The  prisoner  was  thunderstruck.  A  murmur  of 
gratification  ran  through  the  audience. 

"  Let  me  see  the  warrant,"  said  the  prisoner.  The 
sheriff  gave  it  to  him,  and  he  read  it  critically, 
stroking  his  beard  and  frowning  in  vexation.  "  Well," 
said  he  to  the  justice,  "what  are  you  going  to  do 
about  it?" 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  about  it?"  responded 
the  justice. 

*l  Am  I  to  understand  that  I  am  on  trial  upon  this 
charge  ? " 

"  Certainly-  Where  else  be  you,  if  you  a'n't  on 
trial?" 

"  Excuse  me  ;  I  have  been  accustomed  to  see  these 
things  done  a  little  more  formally.  But  it  is  of  no 
consequence.  I  am  not  in  a  position  to  stand  upon 
ceremony.  What  specific  violation  of  the  law  do  you 
charge  ?  " 

"Josh,  you  can  answer  the  gentleman  as  to  that. 
What  did  you  and  Dave  see  last  Saturday  night?" 

"  We  see  him  shoot  five  chickens  in   the   blueb'ry 


2GO  THE  ROCKANOCK  STAGE. 

bushes  on  Injun's  Bluff,"  said  a  man  near  the  door. 
MacAllan  turned  to  look  at  him.  It  was  the  farmer 
who  was  in  the  stable  when  the  double  rig  went  out 
so  gayly.  On  his  feet  were  the  hobnailed  boots 
whose  tracks  the  hunter  had  seen  on  the  bluff. 

"  What  is  your  name? "  asked  MacAllah. 

"  Martin." 

"Who  is  Dave?" 

"Dave  Robberson ;  here  he  is,"  pointing  to  a 
barefooted  giant  beside  him. 

"Hm-m-m!" 

"  Is  that  your  plea?"  asked  the  justice. 

"Not  exactly.     What  other  charges  have  you?" 

"  Empty  them  coat  pockets  and  we  '11  see." 

Mr.  MacAllau  took  off  his  coat  and  handed  it  to 
the  sheriff,  who  proceeded  to  draw  forth  the  contents 
of  the  pockets,  calling  out  the  items  of  discovery 
one  by  one,  while  the  justice  catalogued  and  classified 
them. 

"  One  rabbit." 

"  Lawful  game." 

"One  fox-squirrel." 

"  Ditto,  ditto." 

"  One  partridge." 

"  Shot  on  Saturday?" 

"  No,  to-day,"  said  Josh  Martin. 

"  All  right,  then,"  said  the  justice. 


THE   CHARMS  OF  SOLITUDE.  261 

"Two  bob-whites." 

"  Them  shot  to-day,  too?" 

"  Yes,"  responded  the  omniscient  Josh. 

"All  right  again." 

"  One,  two,  three,  four  ducks." 

"  Unlawful  till  September  first." 

"One  silk  handkercher." 

"  Neutral  property." 

"One  pocket  comb  and  looking-glass." 

"  Of  no  use  except  to  the  owner." 

A  loud  laugh  followed  this  sally,  during  which 
Mac-Allan  reached  for  his  coat. 

"Wait  a  bit,"  said  the  sheriff,  "till  the  court 
gives  sentence." 

"  I  'm  a-figgering  of  it  up,"  said  the  justice. 
"  Five  and  four  is  nine  ;  and  nine  turns  ten  is  ninety 
—  one  half  to  complainant." 

"  And  costs,"  put  in  the  sheriff. 

"And  costs,"  assented  the  court.  "Now  whose 
land  was  the  game  shot  on  ?  " 

"  The  ducks  was  shot  on  section  eight ;  owners 
unknown,"  replied  Josh.  "  We  can't  git  no  holt  of 
liim  fer  that.  But  the  chickens  was  killed  on  Bill 
Stevens'  land." 

"  Do  you  complain  of  the  prisoner  for  trespass, 
Bill?"  asked  Justice  Cherrycake  of  a  seedy-looking 
bystander. 


262  THE  ROCKANOCK  STAGE. 

"  I  do,"  answered  Stevens.  "Jest  as  many  tres- 
passes as  there  was  chickens." 

"That's  five.  Five  turns  ten  is  fifty  —  one  half 
to  complainant." 

"  And  costs,"  suggested-  the  sheriff. 

"  And  costs,"  repeated  Justice  Cherrycake.  "  And 
now  we  '11  see  about  forfeiture,"  he  continued,  turning 
to  the  fly  leaf  of  the  statute  book,  where  a  newspaper 
cutting  was  pasted  in.  "  I  have  n't  got  the  statchutes 
of  1871  yet,  but  I  found  this  in  a  paper  and  cut  it 
out.  It  says  all  the  game,  guns,  and  sporting 
implements  are  to  be  forfeited." 

"That's  a  new  wrinkle,  a'n't  it?"  asked  the  sheriff. 

"  Bran'  new  this  year,  and  a  good  one,  too." 

"  That 's  so,"  said  the  bystanders. 

"  But  the  gun  is  not  mine,"  protested  MacAllan. 

"That  don't  make  no  odds.  The  statchute  says 
*  any  gun  or  guns  and  sporting  implements  in  his  or 
their  possession.'  Read  it  for  yourself.  There  's  the 
statchute  in  black  and  white." 

Mr.  MacAllan  took  the  book  and  read  the  alleged 
law  with  care.  "  What  do  you  include  in  '  sporting 
implements  '?  "  he  asked. 

"Cartridge  belt,  ammunition,  coat"  — 

"  Coat !  Man  alive  !  how  do  you  make  out  a  coat  to 
be  a  sporting  implement,  I  should  like  to  know  ?  " 

"  That 's  what  you  carry  your  game  in,"  replied  the 


THE   CHAR. MS   OF  SOLITUDE.  263 

justice  coolly.  "  It 's  used  only  for  hunting  purposes. 
You  would  n't  think  of  wearing  a  tan-colored,  bob- 
tailed  duck  coat,  with  all  them  pockets  and  game 
pouches  in  it,  anywhere  else,  would  you?" 

"That  doesn't  make  it  an  implement." 

"  I  say  it  does  !  The  court  has  always  ruled  hunt- 
ing coats  to  be  implements  ;  and  hunting  boots,  too," 
he  added,  scrutinizing  the  prisoner's  fine  top-boots 
over  his  spectacles. 

Mr.  MacAllan's  face  flamed  with  indignation. 
"You're  a  contemptible  old  idiot"  — 

'•  Hold  on  !  "  interrupted  the  justice,  writing  delib- 
erately as  he  spoke.  "  Don't  talk  quite  so  fast, 
please.  I  want  to  git  that  all  down.  '  Con-tempt-i-ble 
—  old  —  id-i-ot '  —  all  right ;  now  go  on.  Them  words 
are  worth  about  five  dollars  apiece  in  this  market ;  we 
can't  afford  to  lose  any  of  them." 

''In  that  case,"  said  the  prisoner,  "I  will  not 
gratify  you  by  multiplying  them." 

"Just  as  you  say,"  answered  the  justice,  laying 
down  the  pen.  "  Have  you  anything  further  to  offer 
before  sentence  is  pronounced?" 

"  No,  sir  ;  out  with  it ;  the  sooner  the  better !  " 

"  Well,  as  this  is  your  first  offense,  we  '11  make  the 
fine  a  hundred  and  forty  dollars,  and  the  costs  fifteen, 
with  forfeiture  of  the  gun  and  implements,  and  of 
course  the  game." 


264  THE  ROCKANOCK  STAGE. 

"  Must  the  payment  be  in  cash?  " 

"You  don't  s'pose  we  do  a  credit  business,  do 
you  ?  " 

"  I  will  give  you  my  check  on  the  First  National 
Bank  of  Rockby  ;  that  is  the  best  I  can  do." 

"Couldn't  take  it  without  some  good  backer  per- 
sonally known  to  the  court.  Probably  some  of  your 
friends  in  Tumbleville  will  endorse  for  you,  or  loan 
you  the  money,''  said  the  justice  with  a  sneer. 

"  I  am  painfully  aware  that  I  have  no  friends  in  this 
neighborhood,"  replied  Mr.  MacAllan. 

"  Then  I  shall  have  to  commit  you." 

"Somebody  run  quick  to  section  eight  and  tell  his 
artist  friend  to  step  over  here  a  minute,"  said  Josh 
Martin. 

"No  use,"  said  the  barefoot  giant.  "He's  busy 
gettin'  views  of  the  Injun  Bluff  rocks.  We  saw  his 
camera  standin'  out  by  the  camp  Saturday  night. 
Didn't  we,  Josh?" 

"  Well,  Budd,"  said  the  justice,  addressing  the 
sheriff,  "  you  can  show  the  gentleman  to  his  room." 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say  that  you  are  going  to  lock 
me  up !  "  exclaimed  MacAllan. 

"I  don't  mean  anything  else.  We've  locked  up 
better  men  than  you  be  before  now." 

"  You  can  keep  the  boots  on  till  you  get  to  the  cell," 
said  the  sheriff  confidentially  as  he  approached  the 


THE  CHARMS  OF  SOLITUDE.      265 

prisoner,  "  and  send  them  back  by  me.  You  won't 
need  them  over  there." 

A  young  farmer  had  been  standing  by,  watching  the 
proceedings  in  silence.  He  did  not  join  in  the  laugh 
that  followed  the  sheriff's  last  remark. 

"Square,"  said  he,  stepping  forward,  "I'm  no 
friend  of  this  man,  or  of  them  that  are  backing  him. 
We  all  know  what  he  went  out  to  hunt.  He  's  hunting 
me  and  my  little  wife  and  baby.  He  's  hunting  Josh 
and  Dave  and  the  widder  Truesdell,  and  all  the  rest  of 
us.  But  I  like  to  see  fair  play,  and  I  a'n't  going  to 
let  the  man  go  to  jail  for  want  of  a  backer,  not  to-day. 
I  '11  endorse  his  check." 

"  That  alters  the  case,"  said  the  justice  ;  "  with  the 
endorsement  of  John  Rice,  I  '11  take  the  check.  We 
could  give  the  gentleman  good  accommodations  in  the 
lockup,  but  probably  your  plan  might  suit  him  better." 

Mr.  Mac  Allan  turned  gratefully  to  his  ally,  holding 
out  his  hand.  The  young  farmer  took  no  notice  of 
the  proffer. 

"  Write  your  check,  if  you  're  going  to,"  he  said 
shortly.  » 

"  And  now,"  remarked  the  justice,  "  we  '11  see  about 
the  gun  and  implements." 

"  Sell  them  to  the  highest  bidder,"  some  one  sug- 
gested, seconded  by  various  expressions  of  appro- 
bation from  other  bystanders. 


266  THE  ROCKANOCK  STAGE. 

The  justice  assented,  and  the  sheriff  proceeded  to 
the  sale.  "  We  '11  begin  with  these  beautiful  hunting 
boots,"  said  he.  "  The  gentleman  will  please  remove 
them." 

The  gentleman  did  so,  and  they  were  passed  around 
for  examination.  Mr.  MacAllan  had  a  few  dollars  by 
him  and  counted  on  outbidding  his  competitors.  But 
he  soon  reached  the  limit  of  his  capital,  and  had  the 
mortification  to  see  his  splendid  top-boots  struck  down 
to  the  barefoot  giant,  who  took  possession  of  his 
purchase  amid  an  uproar  of  laughter. 

"  Put  'em  on,  Dave  !  "  cried  the  spectators. 

"  On  what?  "  he  retorted,  "  my  thumbs? " 

The  coat  came  next,  and  was  won  by  the  same 
bidder.  The  gun  and  cartridge  belt  raised  a  brisk 
competition,  but  were  finally  secured  by  the  giant. 

"  You  've  paid  high  for  that  truck,  Dave,"  said  a 
neighbor. 

"I'll  sell  it  at  a  profit,  though,"  he  replied. 
"What  does  it  all  come  to,  Budd?" 

"  Forty-seven  dollars  and  seventy  cents,"  answered 
the  sheriff. 

Bootless,  coatless,  weaponless,  the  hunter  stood 
before  his  tormentors.  "You  can  go,"  said  the 
justice. 

"  Go  !  "  echoed  half  a  dozen  voices. 

As  the  crestfallen  man  turned  toward  the  door  the 


THE  CHAli.MS   OF  SOLITUDE.  267 

giant  faced  him.  "  Write  me  a  check  for  fifty  dollars 
and  you  shall  have  your  boots,  gun,  and  belt." 

44  And  coat?" 

"  No;  I  guess  I  '11  keep  that  to  remember  you  by." 

The  check  was  written,  and,  hastily  donning  his 
boots  and  shouldering  his  gun,  Mr.  Mac  Allan  escaped 
from  the  room.  If  lie  had  felt  any  compunctions  con- 
cerning the  Ottvvay  business,  they  were  gone  now. 

ktlt  will  be  my  turn  to  say  'Go'  to  the  malicious 
wretches  one  of  these  days,"  he  said  as  he  took  up 
his  weary  tramp  again ;  "  then  we  '11  see  !  " 

It  was  long  past  sunset  when  he  reached  the  four 
corners  and  turned  once  more  into  the  llockby  road. 
It  was  fast  growing  dusk  \\hen  there  came  to  his  ears 
the  sound  of  distant  wheels. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

A    SISTER    OF    MERCY. 

ON  the  clay  of  Mr.  MacAllan's  unlucky  adventures 
in  forest  and  court,  the  Ottway  Tract  was 
visited  by  certain  other  Rockby  folks,  on  an  errand 
very  different  from  that  of  the  hapless  sportsman. 

Dr.  Ashley  had  been  called,  in  urgent  haste,  to  visit 
Mrs.  Deacon  Lorimer,  a  highly  esteemed  member  of 
Mr.  Austin's  church,  who  was  suffering  from  what 
the  doctor  called  old-fashioned  consumption.  The 
recently  agitated  title  question  had  called  Deacon 
Lorimer  to  Chicago  ;  and  Mrs.  Lorimer's  anxiety  about 
the  matter,  together  with  the  lack  of  usual  care,  and 
the  necessity  for  unusual  exertion,  occasioned  by  her 
husband's  absence,  had  brought  on  an  acute  attack, 
which  was  likely  to  prove  fatal. 

Between  the  Lorimers  and  the  Ashleys  a  strong 
friendship  existed,  in  which  Lucy  had  been  lately  in- 
cluded, especially  since  she  became  the  teacher  of  the 
Sunday-school  class  attended  by  Mrs.  Lorimer's  two 
girls,  sweet,  coy  maidens  of  ten  and  twelve.  Both 
mother  and  daughters  had  fallen  in  love  with  Lucy  at 
first  sight,  and  the  girls,  at  least,  had  adored  her  upon 
further  acquaintance. 


A   SISTElt   OF  MERCY.  269 

When,  therefore,  the  doctor  returned  to  Rockby,  he 
brought  a  message  from  the  invalid,  requesting  Lucy 
and  Mr.  Austin  to  visit  her.  The  doctor  delivered 
the  message  to  Mr.  Austin,  seconding  the  request,  and 
offering  one  of  his  own  horses  for  the  purpose. 

Mr.  Austin  found  the  proposition  very  embarrassing. 
Pastoral  visitation  was  the  most  trying  of  all  his  official 
duties,  and  that  for  which  he  felt  himself  most  unfitted 
by  nature  and  by  training.  He  had  a  morbid  dread 
of  the  sight  of  suffering,  and  almost  a  superstitious 
terror  of  death  scenes.  And  what  was  so  hard  for 
him  must,  he  felt  sure,  be  incomparably  harder  for  a 
girl  of  such  exquisite  sensibilities  as  Lucy,  and  so 
unaccustomed  to  such  scenes  as  this.  And  how  could 
he  ask  her  to  play  deaconess  to  him,  and  take  this  long 
ride,  in  the  summer  heat  and  dust,  in  his  stupid  com- 
pany, and  on  an  errand  so  distasteful? 

"You  wished  to  see  me?"  she  asked,  coming  into 
the  parlor  and  standing  expectantly  before  him.  She 
was  dressed  in  some  delicate,  creamy  stuff,  which 
seemed  to  have  been  created  on  purpose  for  her. 
Summer  fabrics  and  costumes  were  especially  becom- 
ing to  her.  "  Mrs.  Ashley  said  you  asked  for  me." 

He  marveled  at  his  audacity  in  having  done  so,  and 
wished  that  she  would  not  stand  so  near  him,  over- 
whelming him  with  her  beauty  and  making  him  feel 
so  like  an  idiot  and  a  clown.  He  explained  Mrs.  Lor- 
imer's  condition. 


270  THE  ROCKANOCK  STAGE. 

"My  poor  girls!"  said  Lucy,  "what  will  become 
of  them?  I  must  go  to  them  at  once." 

"  That  is  precisely  what  Mrs.  Lorimer  has  requested. 
The  doctor  just  brought  the  message  from  her." 

"  Will  he  take  me  out  with  him?  Is  he  going  back 
soon  ?  " 

"  Not  before  evening  at  the  earliest." 

"  Then  I  will  ask  the  major  to  drive  me  out.  I 
can't  wait  so  long  as  that.  Poor,  dear  girls  !  How 
terrible  it  is  for  them ! "  She  turned  to  leave  the 
room. 

"  If  it  is  not  entirely  convenient  for  Major  Gibson," 

"» 

said  Mr.  Austin  hesitatingly,  "  I  am  going  out  my- 
self, and  the  doctor  has  offered  me  Rosey  and  the 
phaeton." 

He  felt  obliged  in  courtesy  to  make  the  offer, 
though  not  doubting  that  the  major's  services  would 
be  preferred  to  his. 

But  Lucy  faced  him  again,  with  a  look  of  unmistak- 
able pleasure.  "Oh,  thank  you,  Mr.  Austin!"  she 
said  cordially.  "  If  you  don't  mind  taking  me,  I 
should  like  that  much  better.  When  shall  we  start?" 

"  That  shall  be  as  you  say." 

"In  ten  minutes  then,"  she  promptly  replied.  He 
heard  her  swift  steps  flying  up  the  stair.  Before  the 
ten  minutes  had  expired  she  stood  before  him  again, 
ready  for  the  ride,  her  creamy  draperies  exchanged  for 


-1    SISTER   OF  MERCY.  271 

a  suit  of  Quaker  drab.  "  Have  I  kept  you  waiting?" 
she  asked. 

"  Not  a  moment.  Pat  has  just  brought  Rosey  to 
the  door."  He  took  the  light  wrap  which  she  had 
thrown  over  her  arm,  and  accompanied  her  to  the 
phaeton. 

Mrs.  Lorimer  welcomed  their  arrival  with  grateful 
looks,  though  she  had  scarcely  strength  enough  to 
express  her  thanks  audibly.  At  her  side  sat  a  neigh- 
bor, also  a  parishioner  of  Mr.  Austin,  who,  after %a 
whispered  word  or  two  with  the  newcomers,  excused 
herself  and  withdrew,  promising  to  return  at  a  later 
hour.  The  two  girls  crouching  by  the  bedside,  with 
swollen  eyes,  greeted  Lucy  with  a  piteous  little  heart- 
broken cry  and  crept  sobbing  into  her  arms.  All  the 
way  out  she  had  been  vainly  wondering  what  she  could 
do  when  she  got  there  to  help  the  dying  woman  or  to 
comfort  the  children.  But  it  was  no  longer  a  matter 
of  question  or  of  choice.  In  the  impulse  of  pity  and 
tenderness  she  folded  the  poor  girls  in  her  arms,  and 
silently  wept  with  them.  It  was  all  that  she  could  do. 
I  hid  she  been,  the  Angel  of  Consolation  she  could  have 
done  nothing  more  sweetly  comforting  to  either  the 
mother  or  her  children.  Mr.  Austin  could  not  restrain 
his  own  tears,  as  he  watched  the  scene,  looking  first  at 
the  group  by  the  bedside,  and  then  at  the  saintly  face 
upon  the  pillow.  Upon  the  wall,  opposite  the  foot  of 


272  THE  ROCKAXOCK  STAGS. 

the  bed,  there  hung  a  scroll  of  printed  texts,  for  daily 
use.  The  passage  for  the  day  was  outermost,  and  Mrs. 
Lorimer  pointed  to  it  with  a  smile  :  — 

"  THE   MASTER  is  COME,  AND  CALLETH  FOR  THEE." 

"  I  hope  it  is  a  call  to  life  and  health,"  said  Mr. 
Austin. 

"  Yes,"  she  whispered  with  a  sudden  kindling  of 
the  face,  "  perfect  health  —  eternal  life  !  " 

Her  Bible  lay  on  the  stand  by  the  bedside,  and  she 
signed  to  him  that  he  should  read.  It  was  a  well- 
worn  book  and  opened  of  itself  to  certain  passages, 
upon  which  she  had  evidently  loved  to  dwell.  He 
found  and  read  them  one  by  one  —  now  a  Psalm,  now 
a  bit  of  prophecy,  now  a  promise  of  the  Master,  now 
an  apostolic  message,  now  an  apocalyptic  vision.  He 
wondered  how  he  could  have  beeu  at  a  loss  to  know 
what  to  do  for  a  dying  Christian  with  such  resources 
as  these  at  hand.  After  a  time  Lucy  softly  touched 
his  arm  and  pointed  to  the  bed.  The  invalid  had 
sunk  into  a  quiet  sleep.  He  closed  the  book,  with  his 
finger  at  a  half-read  passage,  and  the  four  sat  long 
silent,  watching  the  sleeper.  Once  when  an  almost 
seraphic  smile  flitted  across  the  pallid  face,  Mr.  Austin 
raised  his  eyes  to  Lucy,  who  returned  his  glance  with 
a  smile  of  intelligence  which  said,  "  Yes ;  is  n't  it 
beautiful?"  but  their  lips  did  not  move. 

At  length  he  took  an  envelope  from  his  pocket  and 


A   SISTER    OF  MERCY.  273 

wrote  upon  the  back,  "  If  you  do  not  mind  being  left 
for  half  au  hour,  I  will  drive  over  and  inquire  after 
Mr.  Jiles  ;  I  hear  he  is  not  so  well  of  late." 

Lucy  gave  him  again  the  smile  of  intelligence, 
which  said,  "  Go;  it  is  another  part  of  the  same  min- 
istry. Do  not  feel  concerned  about  me." 

The  pastor  made  his  visit.  Never  had  the  ministry 
seemed  so  delightful  as  to-day.  Even  the  most  trying 
of  pastoral  duties  were  losing  their  terror.  Yet  he 
owned  to  himself  that  Lucy  's  gracious  ministry  was 
infinitely  superior  to  his.  "Would  it  have  been  the 
same  if  the  major  had  come?"  he  asked  himself. 
ki  Will  she  be  a  Sister  of  Charity  when  she  is  married 
to  him?  Of  course  she  will.  God  is  preparing  her 
to  make  her  wealth  and  position  and  the  marvelous 
power  of  her  personal  influence  a  great  blessing." 

Mrs.  Lorimer  awoke  from  her  sleep  in  great  distress. 
Lucy  sprang  to  her  side  all  sympathy  and  alarm,  but 
not  knowing  what  to  do. 

44  Oh,  raise  her  up  !  "  cried  Lottie,  the  older  daugh- 
ter. "  We  always  raise  her  up  when  she  is  like  that." 

Lucy's  arms  were  beneath  the  mother's  shoulders  in 
an  instant.  With  a  strength  unusual  in  her  sex,  and 
a  deftness  and  skill  impossible  to  the  other,  she  raised 
the  invalid  to  the  required  position,  while  the  girls 
adjusted  the  pillows.  Mrs.  Lorimer  breathed  more 
freely  again  and  smiled  her  thanks  to  Lucy. 


274  THE  ROCKANOCK  STAGE. 

"  Where  is  Mr.  Austin?"  she  asked,  looking  about 
the  room. 

"He  has  gone  to  Mr.  Jiles'  for  a  few  moments. 
It  is  almost  time  for  him  to  be  back.  Is  there  some- 
thing I  can  do?  Would  you  like  to  have  me  read  to 
you?" 

"  I  think  —  I  should  —  like  —  to  have  you  —  sing." 

It  was  a  hard  task;  but  how  could  it  be  refused? 
"  What  does  your  mother  like  best?"  Lucy  whispered 
to  Lottie.  The  mother  herself  answered,  "  Jesus, 
lover" —  In  a  low  voice,  tremulous  with  emotion, 
Lucy  began  to  sing  the  sweet  old  hymn.  The  face  on 
the  pillow  looked  ineffable  peace.  The  languid  eyes 
closed ;  and  before  the  last  stanza  was  ended  the 
invalid  had  again  sunk  to  sleep. 

She  awoke  sooner  than  before  and  seemingly 
stronger.  "Shall  I  sing  again?"  asked  Lucy. 

"No,"  she  said,  "  the  hymn  has  been  sung,  and  the 
Scriptures  have  been  read ;  we  will  now  have  the 
prayer." 

"Mr.  Austin  has  not  returned,"  said  Lucy.  "I 
am  sure  he  will  not  be  gone  much  longer.  When  he 
comes  we  will  have  the  prayer." 

"  You  pray,  dear,"  she  said  with  a  pleading  look. 

Lucy  had  never  uttered  an  audible  prayer  before 
others  since  she  prayed  as  a  child  at  her  mother's  knee. 
But  she  did  not  hesitate  for  a  moment.  Rising,  she 


.1    SISTER    OF  MERCY.  275 

led  the  two  girls  to  the  bedside  where  they  all  knelt 
together.  The  mother  folded  her  hauds  upon  her 
breast  and  waited  with  closed  eyes. 

In  what  words  the  prayer  was  spoken  Lucy  never 
knew.  Her  heart  was  full  of  gratefulness  and  peace, 
and  her  eyes  of  happy  tears.  She  seemed  to  be 
inhaling  an  atmosphere  of  delicious  inspiration,  as  of 
the  breath  of  heavenly  shores.  If  this  was  the  Valley 
of  the  Shadow  of  Death,  it  was  fairer  than  all  the 
mountains  of  life. 

When  she  ceased  a  hand  was  laid  softly  upon  her 
head,  thrilling  her  like  a  memory  of  her  childhood, 
and  another  prayer  began.  "  Dear  Jesus,"  it  said, 
"  when  thou  callest,  it  is  blessed  to  go.  Where  thou 
dwi-llest,  it  is  good  to  be.  How  beautiful  must  be  the 
home  into  which  thou  hast  brought  thine  own  mother ! 
I  shall  soon  be  with  thee  and  with  her,  with  my  own 
angel  mother  too,  and  my  sweet  babes.  Take  tender 
care  of  those  who  are  left.  Help  poor  James  to  bear 
his  sorrow  and  let  him  partake  of  the  joy  I  now  feel, 
even  as  we  have  shared  all  other  good  together. 
Keep,  O  gracious  Shepherd !  my  two  tender  lambs. 
Gather  them  in  thine  arms  and  carry  them  in  th}r 
bosom.  Lay  thy  hand  where  mine  is  laid,  and  blesa 
this  dear,  motherless  girl.  Keep  her  heart  pure  and 
loving  as  it  is  to-day  ;  and  make  her  a  blessing  to 
many,  as  she  has  been  to  me." 


276  THE  ROCKANOCK  STAGE. 

The  tones  were  weak  and  the  sentences  were  broken 
by  pauses  for  breath.  Mr.  Austin  had  returned,  and 
stood  by  with  bowed  head,  and  near  him  was  the 
neighbor  whom  they  had  found  there  when  they  came. 
Mrs.  Lorimer  beckoned  the  neighbor  and  gave  some 
directions  for  finding  the  linen  which  would  be  needed. 
She  thanked  Mr.  Austin  for  his  kindness,  and  com- 
mended the  stricken  ones  to  his  care.  She  left  touch- 
ing messages  for  her  husband.  She  spoke  low,  sooth- 
ing words  to  the  girls,  stroking  and  patting  their 
heads  in  a  caressing  way.  Raising  her  eyes  to  Lucy, 
she  said,  •'  I  will  find  your  mother  and  tell  her  how 
sweet  you  have  been  to  me." 

Lucy  stooped  and  kissed  her  twice  upon  the  lips. 

"  I  will  give  one  of  them  to  your  mother,"  said  the 
sufferer,  and  never  spoke  again. 

The  twilight  was  fading  as  the  phaeton  was  turned 
toward  Rockby.  "O  Mr.  Austin!"  said  Lucy,  "I 
think  you  have  the  most  enviable  calling  in  the  world. 
If  I  were  a  man,  I  would  be  a  minister." 

"  Being  a  woman,"  he  replied,  "  you  have  a  higher 
ministry  than  mine.  You  have  enjoyed  its  privileges 
this  afternoon.  It  was  you  whom  Mrs.  Lorimer 
needed,  not  me.  I  am  very  thankful  that  you  were 
there.  What  could  I  have  done  for  her  or  the  poor 
girls  in  comparison  with  what  you  have  done?" 

"It  is  you  and  the   things   that  you    have   taught 


A   S 'IS TER   OF  MEECY.  277 

me,"  said  Lucy,  "  that  have  led  me  to  attempt  or 
-desire  any  Christian  service  at  all." 

"It  is  a  great  happiness  to  hear  you  say  that," 
responded  the  minister  with  feeling. 

"  It  is  an  unspeakable  privilege  to  be  able  to  say 
it,"  she  replied. 

This  was  no  interchange  of  pious  compliments,  but 
a  mutual  acknowledgment,  as  artless  and  as  free  from 
any  conscious,  personal  sentiment  on  either  side  as  if 
it  concerned  other  people  instead  of  IhemseU 

Another  silence  ensued,  during  which  Mr.  Austin 
again  fell  to  speculating  upon  the  future  of  his 
parishioner.  But  it  caused  him  less  concern  than 
formerly,  for  he  was  convinced  that  her  character  was 
now  too  well  fixed,  and  her  relish  for  Christian  philan- 
thropy too  strong,  to  be  changed  by  the  wealth  or 
influence  of  such  a  husband  as  Major  Gibson. 

She,  on  her  part,  reverted  to  the  events  of  the 
afternoon,  and  tried  to  picture  to  her  mind  the  scenes 
which  might  even  then  be  taking  place  in  other  realms. 
Had  she  in  very  deed  sent  a  message  that  day  to  her 
sainted  mother?  a  message  and  a  kiss?  At  the 
thought  the  happy  tears  came  again,  and  she  indulged 
them  silently,  grateful  for  the  darkness  and  her 
companion's  abstraction. 

On  a  hill  before  them  they  saw  the  figure  of  a  man 
outlined  against  the  sky.  As  they  approached  him  he 


278  T1JE  ItOCKANOCK  STAGE. 

grew  more  and  more  uncanny  to  the  sight  —  a  black- 
bearded,  coatless,  slouchy  fellow,  with  shuffling  step, 
and  a  gun  carried  breech  downward  under  his  arm. 
The  gloom  cast  his  face  into  shadow  under  his  brig- 
andish  hat,  and  made  him  look  the  bigger  and  more 
dangerous. 

Lucy,  on  whose  side  of  the  road  the  man  walked, 
was  in  that  state  of  excitability  which  made  her  as 
susceptible  to  fright  as  to  any  other  strong  feeling. 
They  were  in  a  lonely  place,  and  ugly  stories  of  mur- 
derous tramps  were  abroad.  As  they  overtook  the 
man,  and  he  stepped  back,  faciug  them  to  let  them 
pass,  she  involuntarily  shrank  close  to  Mr.  Austin  and 
almost  convulsively  clutched  his  arm.  The  next 
moment  she  exclaimed  :  "  Why,  it  is  Mr.  MacAllau  !  " 

It  was  no  other.  And  for  the  first  time  he  regretted 
an  encounter  with  Miss  Darling.  He  would  rather  at 
that  moment  have  heard  any  other  sound.  As  the 
phaeton  stopped,  his  wit,  his  self-possession,  even  his 
manners  forsook  him  utterly,  and  he  stood  speechless 
before  her.  But  she  had  lost  neither. 

"You  gave  me  such  a  fright!"  she  said  with  a 
sigh.  "I  really  took  you  for  some  robber  chief." 
Then  looking  at  him  more  closely,  as  the  glow  from 
the  still  luminous  west  fell  upon  his  face,  she  added 
in  a  tone  that  went  to  his  heart,  "Oh,  how  tired  you 
look !  How  (Jreadf ully  tired  !  What  is  the  matter  ?  " 


A   SISTER    OF  MERCY.  279 

"I  have  been  hunting,"  he  said,  "and  was  lost  in 
the  woods.  An  all-day  tramp  without  food  was  a  little 
too  much  for  me." 

"  I  should  think  as  much  !  You  must  ride  home 
with  us.  Pray  get  in  at  once.  I  am  so  thankful  we 
overtook  you  ! " 

Mr.  Mac  Allan  demurred.  He  was  unwilling  to 
crowd  them.  He  was  not  in  a  presentable  costume. 
Lucy  silenced  every  objection,  and  said  she  would 
ride  on  Rosey's  back  sooner  than  have  him  walk 
another  step.  She  gathered  her  skirts  closely  about 
her,  made  Mr.  Austin  sit  nearer  to  her,  and  left  the 
tramp  room  enough  and  to  spare.  The  poor  fellow 
sank  into  his  seat,  almost  ready  to  cry  with  grate- 
fulness. 

Never  had  she  been  so  affable  or  so  sympathetic. 
Never  had  he  so  adored  her.  Never  had  he  so  nearly 
despaired  of  winning  her.  She  took  no  heed  of  his 
present  plight,  aud  almost  made  him  forget  it.  But 
when  the  whole  story  of  the  day's  adventures  should 
reach  her,  as  it  surely  must,  what  could  keep  her  from 
despising  him? 

In  the  very  fullness  of  her  kindness  toward  him  she 
unwittingly  increased  his  discomfort.  She  asked  so 
particularly  concerning  his  misadventures,  of  which 
he  could  tell  only  a  part,  that  he  was  driven  to  evasion 
and  wholesale  invention. 


280  THE  EOCKAXOCK  STAGE. 

And,  what  was  more  trying  still,  she  spoke  freely  of 
the  visit  from  which  the  pastor  and  herself  were  just 
returning;  the  unexpected  summons;  their  dread  of 
the  scene  ;  their  happy  disappointment ;  the  beautiful 
death  they  had  witnessed ;  the  cloud  of  glory  that 
seemed  to  overshadow  them  all.  Her  tears  flowed 
afresh  as  she  related  it ;  and  he,  miserable  hypocrite 
that  he  was,  could  not  keep  back  bis  own. 

"But  to  think,  Mr.  MacAllau,"  she  added,  "that 
such  saints  as  that  should  be  hunted  and  persecuted 
by  greedy  men,  who  want  to  steal  away  their  little 
home  or  make  them  pay  for  it  twice  over !  " 

"  Dreadful !  "  said  Mr.  MacAllan. 

"  And  the  neighbors  all  say,  and  I  believe  it  is  true, 
that  it  is  the  worry  about  that,  and  the  absence  of  her 
husband  to  see  about  it,  that  send  that  lovely  woman 
to  the  grave." 

"  It  is  monstrous,"  said  the  conspirator. 

**  It  is  martyrdom,"  said  Lucy. 

"  It  is  murder,"  said  the  minister. 


CHAPTP:R  xxi. 

A    SISTER   OF    CHARITY. 

WHAT  next?"  Mr.  MacAllan  asked  himself 
that  night,  tossing  sleeplcssly  upon  his  bed. 
Tired  as  he  was,  his  shame  and  anxiety  would  not  let 
him  close  his  eyes.  That  the  Tumbleville  affair  would 
In-  published  in  detail  by  the  barefoot  giant  and  his 
crew,  there  could  not  be  a  doubt.  That  Rockby 
would  be  full  of  it  within  twenty-four  hours,  was 
equally  certain.  What  would  be  its  effect  upon  Miss 
Darling's  mind,  and  upon  his  chances  of  winning  her 
favor  and  fortune?  At  first  view  it  seemed  fatal  to 
all  his  hopes,  and  he  resolved  to  relinquish  them  and 
to  leave  Rockby  at  once  and  forever.  Yet  to  do  so 
was  to  accept  financial  ruin,  for  he  was  already  so  far 
in  old  Krauntz's  debt  that  to  break  with  him  would 
bring  certain  beggary.  Besides,  he  really  loved  Miss 
Darling  and  was  not  without  hope  that  she'  had  some 
slight  regard  for  him.  At  any  rate,  she  was  kind  and 
generous. 

"I  will  cast  myself  upon  her  magnanimity,"  he 
said.  "  She  shall  hear  my  version  of  the  story 
before  the  other  reaches  her.  The  frankness  of  my 
course  will  please  her ;  my  appeal  to  her  generosity 

281 


282  THE  ROCKANOCK  STAGE. 

will  flatter  her ;  iny  misfortunes  and  persecutions  will 
awaken  her  sympathy.  But  if  not,  and  she  joins 
with  my  enemies,  it  will  be  the  easier  to  learn  to  hate 
her.  I  will  try  ;  and  if  there  be  any  such  thing  as 
conquering  fate,  I  will  do  it." 

He  rose  and  went  to  the  window  and  looked  out 
through  the  closed  blinds.  The  breath  of  the  summer 
night  came  to  him  with  the  faint  herb  odors  of  the 
garden  and  the  sound  of  rustling  corn  leaves.  He 
looked  at  the  Ashley  mansion.  It  was  dark  and  still. 

"  There  she  sleeps  !  "  he  whispered  to  himself.  The 
thought  gave  him  fresh  resolve,  if  not  courage.  "  I 
will  never  give  her  up  till  she  tells  me  with  her  own 
lips  that  she  detests  me." 

Then  there  appeared  to  him  a  vision,  which  held 
him  in  a  trance  of  wonder  and  admiration.  At  the 
window  opposite,  where  once  only,  in  all  his  hours  of 
watching,  he  had  had  a  momentary  glimpse  of  his  en- 
chantress, the  shade  was  slowly  raised,  the  blinds  were 
softly  opened,  and  lo  !  there  she  stood  like  a  beautiful 
goddess,  framed  in  light,  with  all  the  glory  of  her 
unbound  hair  streaming  about  her  shoulders.  Had 
the  window  of  heaven  opened,  and  the  fairest  of  the 
angels  looked  forth,  Mr.  Mac  Allan  could  hardly  have 
felt  it  a  sweeter  surprise. 

She  evidently  thought  all  the  world  asleep  except 
herself.  Kneeling  by  the  window,  she  threw  one  arm 


A   SISTER   OF  CHARITY,  283 

across  its  ledge,  laid  her  cheek  upon  it,  and  looked 
long  and  wistfully  into  the  sky.  How  the  watcher 
wondered  what  fascination  held  her  there,  and  what 
her  eyes  discovered  in  the  depths  beyond  the  stars  ! 
More  than  once  or  twice  he  fancied  that  lie  saw  her 
brush  a  tear  from  her  cheek.  At  last,  through  some 
sul »tle  sense,  she  seemed  to  take  alarm,  started  to  her 
feet,  closed  the  blinds  quickly  but  silently,  drew  down 
the  shade,  and  the  fair  vision  was  gone. 

Mr.  MacAllan  darkened  his  own  windows  and 
lighted  his  lamp.  It  was  one  o'clock.  He  felt  im- 
pelled to  begin,  that  very  moment,  his  efforts  for  the 
recovery  of  his  lost  vantage  ground.  He  first  wrote 
to  Mr.  Pack,  giving  him  a  brief  account  of  what  had 
taken  place,  and  representing  to  him  in  the  strongest 
terms  that  his  success  in  their  main  undertaking,  if 
not  already  defeated  by  the  Ottway  affair,  could  now 
only  be  secured  by  abandoning  it,  and  wished  it  dis- 
tinctly understood  that  he  would  have  nothing  more  to 
do  with  the  scandalous  business.  He  did  not  speak 
quite  so  freely  as  he  would  have  liked  to  do,  as  he 
found  it  necessary  to  call  for  funds  to  meet  the  ex- 
penses of  his  recent  expedition.  He  did  not  forget 
to  report  the  increasing  graciousness  of  his  ladylove, 
or  to  quote  her  opinions  concerning  land  piracy. 

This  done,  he  extinguished  his  lamp  and  once  more 
sought  his  bed.  A  plan  of  procedure  was  shaping 


284  THE  ROCKANOCK  STAGE. 

itself  in  his  thought,  promising  him  victory  over  his 
difficulties.  His  mind  being  thus  partially  tranquil- 
ized,  he  yielded  to  his  fatigue  and,  just  as  the  dawn 
was  growing  gray,  fell  asleep. 

He  was  awakened  by  a  loud  knocking  at  his  door, 
followed  by  the  entrance  of  Deacon  Wauberton,  w-ho 
informed  him  that  it  was  nine  o'clock ;  that  his  non- 
appearance  had  alarmed  the  family,  and  that  Ned 
Jennings  was  waiting  to  speak  with  him. 

"  Tell  Jennings,"  said  Mr.  MacAllan,  "  that  I  can- 
not see  him  to-day." 

"You  are  sick,  sir!"  said  the  deacon  in  distress, 
coming  nearer  to  the  bed,  and  seeing  how  pale  his 
boarder  looked.  "  We  all  feared  as  much.  I  will  go 
for  Dr.  Ashley  this  minute." 

"  Please  don't,"  replied  Mr.  MacAllan  languidly. 
"  It  is  not  so  serious  as  that,  I  hope.  Perhaps  I  may 
be  driven  to  it,  but  not  just  yet,  my  dear  sir ;  thank 
you  all  the  same." 

'"  Then  let  us  do  something  for  you." 

"  Nothing,  thank  you,  at  present.  I  will  dress  and 
come  downstairs  ;  then,  perhaps,  I  will  ask  for  a  trifle 
of  Mrs.  Wauberton's  nice  toast  and  tea." 

The  deacon  bustled  away  to  dismiss  Jennings,  and 
reported  to  Mother  Wauberton  and  Maggie  that,  in 
his  opinion,  Mr.  MacAllan  was  coming  down  with  a 
fever.  The  family  had  retired  before  the  return  of 


A   SISTER   OF  CHARITY.  285 

the  hunter  on  the  previous  night,  and  knew  nothing 
of  the  causes  of  his  present  condition. 

When  he  appeared  to  them,  in  becoming  dressing 
gown  and  slippers,  his  step  so  weary,  his  handsome 
face  of  such  an  interesting  paleness,  they  overwhelmed 
him  with  sympathy  and  advice.  Mrs.  Wauberton  was 
ready  with  the  toast  and  tea  ;  likewise  with  the  proffer 
of  the  whole  category  of  roots,  herbs,  decoctions,  and 
patent  medicines  in  the  family  pharmacopeia ;  while 
Maggie,  the  most  charming  of  nurses,  hovered  about 
him  with  a  devotion  truly  sisterly.  Among  themselves 
they  held  anxious  consultations  concerning  his  case, 
and  were  unanimous  in  the  opinion  that  he  was  going 
to  have  a  fit  of  sickness,  and  that  he  ought  to  have 
the  doctor.  So  Maggie  told  Lucy,  and  Lucy  told 
Helen,  and  Helen  told  the  doctor.  But  he,  obdurate 
man,  stood  upon  professional  ceremony,  and  would 
not  go  till  he  was  sent  for. 

Lucy  stood  upon  no  ceremony  whatever.  The  be- 
nevolent feeling  was  strong  within  her ;  and  as  Mag- 
gie, after  giving  her  report,  had  hurried  on  to  do  the 
morning  marketing,  Lucy  caught  up  her  hat  and  made 
her  way  alone  to  the  Wauberton  cottage.  It  did  not 
occur  to  her  that  there  was  any  occasion  for  embar- 
rassment in  making  a  call  of  sympathy  nipon  a  sick 
young  gentleman. 

Mr.    MacAllan,    gracefully   posing    in   the    easiest 


286  THE  ROCKANOCK  STAGE. 

chair  in  the  family  sitting  room,  heard  a  light  step  and 
a  rustle  of  garments,  and  turning  his  head,  saw  Lucy 
coming  through  one  of  the  long  windows  that  opened 
to  the  floor  on  the  west  piazza.  She  had  not  expected 
to  find  him  there,  and  stopped  with  a  little  blush  and 
exclamation  of  surprise.  His  delight  was  too  genuine 
and  intense  to  be  concealed. 

"  Maggie  tells  us  you  are  ill,"  she  said,  advancing 
and  giving  him  her  hand,  which  he  could  hardly 
refrain  from  kissing.  "  I  am  very  sorry."  She  stood 
a  moment,  regarding  him  with  a  look  of  bewitching 
commiseration,  and  then  took  a  neighboring  chair. 
Maggie's  sisterliness  was  cold  in  comparison  with  hers. 
Whether  he  knew  it  or  not  he  was  in  precisely  the 
position  to  appeal  most  powerfully  to  her  heart. 
Masculine  strength  challenges  a  woman's  admiration, 
but  strength  disarmed  and  helpless,  the  warrior 
wounded,  the  hero  fainting,  even  an  enemy  over- 
thrown and  bleeding,  move  her  to  infinite  tenderness. 

He  thanked  her  with  sincere  feeling  for  her  kind 
solicitude,  and  took  all  possible  pains  to  increase  it. 
Yes,  he  was  sick,  he  could  not  deny  it.  He  hoped 
nothing  serious  was  coming  of  it.  He  could  n't  bear 
making  trouble  for  the  Waubertons.  Besides,  his 
-business  needed  him  every  hour.  But  just  at  this 
moment  physical  suffering  or  pecuniary  loss  was  noth- 
ing in  comparison  with  certain  anxieties  which  pressed 


A  SISTER   OF  CHARITY.  281 

upon  him.  He  sighed  and  looked  out  of  the  window, 
biting  his  lip.  Lucy's  pity  was  increased  by  this  con- 
fession ;  for  what  is  more  pitiable  to  a  sympathetic 
woman  than  a  man  in  trouble  ?  There  is  but  one  touch 
beyond  it,  and  Mr.  MacAllan  soon  reached  that. 

u  Miss  Darling,"  said  he,  "  I  was  not  quite  frank 
with  you  last  night,  but  I  think  you  will  forgive  me 
when  you  hear  my  explanation."  Here  was  the 
supreme  appeal  to  her  pity,  that  of  penitence  and  the 
suit  for  pardon.  She  felt  a  little  uncomfortable,  but 
neither  encouraged  nor  discouraged  the  explanation. 

"  Had  you  known  that  I  had  just  escaped  from  a 
justice  court  where  I  had  been  heavily  fined  for  viola- 
tion of  law,  you  would  hardly  have  been  so  kind 
to  me." 

"That  would  depend,  Mr.  MacAllan,"  replied  Lucy 
with  dignity,  "  upon  the  nature  of  your  offense." 

"  That  is  a  noble  answer,  Miss  Darling,  a  generous, 
magnanimous  answer,  and  just  what  I  should  expect 
from  you."  He  spoke  with  a  fervor  which  startled 
Lucy,  but  she  found  the  tribute  gratifying,  and  told 
herself  that  he  talked  like  tin  innocent  man. 

"I  was  arrested  —  no,  I  went  of  my  own  accord 
before  a  justice,  to  answer  for  a  violation  of  the  game 
law,  which  I  had  ignorantly  and  unintentionally 
broken." 

Lucy  smiled  at  the  absurdity  of  regarding  such  an 


288  THE   ROCKAXOCK  STAGE. 

offense  seriously.  "  What  a  dreadful  criminal !  "  she 
said.  "Of  course  the  penalty  was  merely  nominal 
under  the  circumstances." 

"On  the  contrary,  Miss  Darling,  it  was  very  heavy, 
and  was  accompanied  with  insults  and  indignities 
which  left  no  doubt  that  the  prosecution  was  malicious. 
Let  me  tell  you." 

He  related  the  story  of  his  sufferings :  how,  when 
almost  dead  with  fatigue,  his  enemies  had  allured  him 
to  the  place  of  trial  under  pretense  of  giving  him  a 
ride  ;  how  he  found  himself  in  a  legal  trap  ;  how  he  was 
condemned  upon  the  testimony  of  spies  who  had  been 
dogging  his  steps ;  how  the  law  had  been  so  miscon- 
strued as  to  justify  them  in  stealing  the  very  coat 
from  his  back ;  and  how,  after  they  had  done  their 
worst  to  him,  they  had  driven  him  out  with  jeers  and 
threats. 

Lucy  heard  him  in  angry  amazement.  "What 
savages  !  "  she  cried.  "  Is  there  no  redress  for  such 
wrongs?  Is  there  no  real  justice  to  revise  such  mon- 
strous proceedings  ?  "  She  looked  upon  Mr.  Mac-Allan 
as  a  noble  martyr,  and  resolved  to  arouse  or  shame 
somebody  to  secure  him  reparation. 

Mr.  MacAllan  accepted  the  martyr  r61e,  and  said 
that  he  knew  of  no  redress.  Indeed  he  cared  little  for 
these  wrongs,  if  he  could  only  know  that  his  friends 
retained  their  respect  for  him. 


A   SISTER   OF  CHARITY.  289 

"  If  they  are  worth  being  called  friends,"  said  Lucy 
warmly,  "  I  am  sure  they  will  esteem  you  all  the  more 
for  what  you  have  suffered.  I  do." 

"  I  would  gladly  suffer  it  many  times  over  for  the 
sake  of  hearing  you  say  that,"  he  said.  Lucy  took 
the  remark  as  merely  a  courteous  retort,  but  found  it 
highly  agreeable. 

"After  all,"  remarked  he,  "we  must  not  be  too 
hard  upon  them.  They  think  they  have  reason  for 
hating  and  persecuting  me." 

"Indeed?" 

"  Yes.  You  referred  last  night  to  the  Ottway  titles. 
I  am  unfortunately  involved  in  that  matter,  or  at  least 
I  have  been." 

Lucy  took  alarm.     "  You  do  not  mean" — 

"  I  mean  that  as  a  real-estate  agent  certain  busi- 
ness connected  with  the  disputed  claims  was  placed 
in  my  hands.  I  knew  nothing  of  the  contesting 
parties  or  of  the  merits  of  the  case.  I  went  about 
it  as  innocently  as  I  did  about  my  unlawful  shoot- 
ing. That  is  the  real  secret  of  the  prosecution. 
The  men  who  spied  upon  me,  decoyed  me  into  court, 
ami  finally  robbed  and  threatened  me,  were  Ottway 
settlers." 

"  Mr.  Mac  Allan  !  I  thought  they  were  all  nice, 
Christian  people  like  tin-  Loriinrrs." 

"  And  they  thought  that  I  was  one  of  those  '  greedy 


290  THE  EOCKAXOCK  STAGE. 

men,'  to  whom  you  referred  as  being  engaged  in 
bunting  and  persecuting  the  saints,  stealing  their 
lands,  and  driving  them  to  their  grave." 

It  was  Lucy's  turn  for  penitence:  "How  shameful 
of  me  to  say  such  a  thing !  I  knew  nothing  of  the 
facts.  At  least,  I  only  half  knew  one  fact.  Pray, 
forgive  my  thoughtlessness.  I  wonder  you  did  not 
answer  me  as  I  deserved,  or  refuse  to  ride  in  my  com- 
pany ! " 

"  Miss  Darling,  I  had  not  a  thought  of  resent- 
ment, and  it  pains  me  more  than  all  else  to  have 
you  blame  yourself.  I  cannot  let  you  do  it.  I  knew 
that  you  would  acquit  me  of  wrongdoing  when  you 
heard  the  facts,  and  I  resolved  that  you  should  hear 
them." 

14 1  thank  you  for  taking  so  much  pains  on  my 
account.  I  fear  you  have  fatigued  yourself  with  all 
this  talking." 

"It  has  been  an  indescribable  pleasure.  If  you  are 
not  \"et  tired  of  the  subject,  let  me  finish  it.  My  busi- 
ness with  the  Ottway  Tract  related  to  the  unoccupied 
portion  only.  It  was  my  presence  there,  with  some 
surveyors  in  my  employment,  which  aroused  the  sus- 
picions of  the  settlers.  The  hunting,  which  was  inci- 
dental, and  the  getting  lost,  which  was  disagreeably 
accidental,  gave  them  a  chance  to  veut  their  undeserved 
spite  on  me.' 


,1    SISTER   OF  CHARITY.  291 

"  And  you  were  not  operating  against  Mr.  Lorimer 
or  the  rest  of  them  ?  " 

"  Not  in  the  least.  But  when  I  saw  that  my  course 
was  likely  to  be  misconstrued  by  people  whose  esteem 
I  prize  above  money,  especially  when  I  saw  Jay  your 
remark  last  night  that  you  were  liable  to  misconstrue 
it,  I  resolved  to  have  nothing  more  to  do  with  it ;  and 
before  I  slept  I  wrote  to  my  Chicago  customers,  throw- 
ing up  the  whole  business." 

Lucy  did  not  trust  herself  to  express  her  admiration 
of  this  sacrifice.  "I  do  not  see  why  it  should  cause 
you  another  moment's  uneasiness,"  she  said. 

He  shook  his  head.  "Everybody  is  not  so  reason- 
able and  so  charitable  as  you.  I  know  what  will 
happen.  Before  night  the  story,  as  told  by  my  ene- 
mies, will  be  in  Rock  by  ;  most  likely  it  is  here  now. 
People  will  believe  it.  They  always  most  easily 
believe  the  worst.  I  cannot  go  up  and  down  the 
streets  proclaiming  my  innocence ;  and  if  I  could, 
who  would  credit  it?  No,  no,  Miss  Darling,  if  a  few 
trusted  friends  have  faith  in  me,  it  is  all  that  I 
expect." 

"I  have  faith  in  you!"  said  the  impulsive  girl, 
rising  ami  extending  her  hand. 

"  Then  I  will  defy  the  rest  of  the  world  !  "  said  he, 
rising  also.  He  felt  that  his  hour  had  come.  He 
would  now  tell  her  all  his  heart,  at  least  all  that  would 


292  THE  nOCKAXOCK  STAGE. 

bear  telling.  After  what  had  passed  between  them  he 
could  not  doubt  the  effect  of  a  declaration.  "  May 
I  say  one  thing  further,  Miss  Darling,  and  "one 
more  nearly  concerning  my  happiness  than  all  the 
rest?" 

"  Certainly,"  said  she  innocently,  resuming  her  seat 
and  folding  her  hands  in  her  lap  with  perfect  com- 
posure. "  Oh,  here  comes  Maggie !  She  is  just  in 
time  to  hear  it  also.  Come  here,  Maggie  dear ;  Mr. 
MacAllan  is  telling  me  the  strangest  story,  which  you 
must  hear  every  word  of." 

Mr.  MacAllan  seemed  not  quite  prepared  to  go  on 
with  his  part.  Whereupon  Lucy  herself  took  up  the 
tale,  and  in  her  own  graphic  way  repeated  the  sub- 
stance of  what  had  just  been  told  her.  Maggie 
listened  with  eager  attention,  uttering  frequent  ex- 
clamations, and  ending  as  Lucy  had  done  in  regard- 
ing Mr.  MacAllan  as  a  noble  martyr. 

"And  now,"  said  Lucy,  "you  were  just  saying 
that  the  climax  of  the  story  remained  to  be  told." 

"I  am  rather  fatigued,"  he  replied;  "  perhaps  we 
had  better  save  the  rest  till  another  day." 

"  By  all  means.  You  have  talked  quite  too  long 
already." 

So  with  fresh  expressions  of  sympathy  and  inquir- 
ies concerning  his  wishes,  and  vain  entreaties  for 
permission  to  send  the  doctor,  the  ladies  left  him. 


.1     "-'/XTES    OF  CHARITY.  293 

Communing  upon  the  subject  between  themselves,  they 
agreed  that  it  was  perfectly  dreadful;  that  he  had 
behaved  splendidly  in  the  matter ;  and  that  it  was  a 
time  for  his  friends  to  stand  by  him.  Bent  on 
fulfilling  their  part  of  that  duty,  they  separated. 
Maggie  told  the  story  to  her  mother,  and  her  mother 
to  the  deacon.  Lucy  told  it  to  Helen  and  the 
major,  and  Helen  told  it  to  the  minister  and  the 
doctor.  It  was  not  too  soon.  Before  it  began  to 
circulate  on  the  street,  the  competitive  statement  had 
already  been  current  for  hours.  People  took  their 
choice  between  the  two,  a  majority  preferring  the 
Tumbleville  version.  In  that  majority  were  to  be 
reckoned  the  male  members  of  the  Ashley  household. 
The  doctor  smiled  knowingly  at  Helen's  impassioned 
statement,  and  advised  her  to  go  slow.  The  minister 
listened  respectfully  to  Lucy,  but  with  evident  preju- 
dice. The  major  laughed  at  her  credulity,  and 
remarked  that  Mack  was  a  sly  one. 

Of  course  all  this  aroused  her  to  a  more  ardent 
advocacy  of  the  martyr's  cause.  She  knew  he  was 
innocent,  and  it  was  only  a  perverse  determination  t<> 
believe  the  worst  about  him  that  prevented  their 
agreeing  with  her. 

Mr.  Solomon  Drabsider,  the  editor  of  The  RocUl>y 
Interview,  called,  upon  Mr.  Mac. Mian  to  see  if  that 
gentleman  had  any  statement  to  make  concerning 


294  THE  EOCKANOCK  STAGE. 

the  unhappy  affair.  The  next  issue  of  his.  paper 
treated  the  subject  with  that  even-handed  justice 
so  admirable  in  an  independent  and  incorruptible 
journal.  It  devoted  exactly  two  columns  to  the  dis- 
cussion. The  first  column  contained  The  Tumbleville 
Gazette's  account  of  the  arrest,  trial,  and  punish- 
ment of  the  "  notorious  land  pirate,  title-clouder, 
trespasser,  law  defier,  etc.,  MacAllan,"  with  copious 
allusion  to  his  "  infamous  operations  and  con- 
spiracies to  defraud  honest  citizens  of  their  prop- 
erty," and  an  assertion  that  he  was  the  "  tool  of  a 
set  of  the  most  merciless  usurers  and  unscrupulous 
swindlers  in  Chicago."  The  other  column  hurled 
scathing  denunciations  at  the  Tumbleville  editor,  ac- 
cording to  the  accepted  methods  of  inter-editorial 
warfare,  and  informed  the  public  that  Mr.  MacAllan 
was,  upon  his  own  word  of  honor,  deserving  of 
respect  and  confidence ;  that  he  had  ignorantly  vio- 
lated the  law,  and  innocently  accepted  business  of  an 
objectionable  character,  but  that  he  had  promptly 
withdrawn  from  all  connection  with  the  Ottway  land- 
grabbers. 

Thus  was  the  public  again  presented  with  two  ver- 
sions of  the  affair;  and  again,  as  before,  a  pretty 
large  majority  gave  the  preference  to  the  Tumbleville 

view.     But    the    smaller    the    number   of  those   who 

* 

believed  in  him,   the   more    immovable  was    Lucy's 


A    X  1ST  Ell    <>!•'    (  II  A  111  TY. 


determination  to  defend  him.     If  he  had  not  another 
friend  in  Rockby,  she  would  stand  by  him. 

Tliis  was  precisely  as  he  wished  it  ;  and  he  counted 
the  sudden  unpopularity  which  had  bound  this  girl  to 
him,  and  raised  him  to  the  position  of  a  hero  in  her 
estimation,  the  most  fortunate  of  accidents. 


CHAPTER   XXII. 

BETTER   ACQUAINTANCE. 

MR.  MACALLAN  received  no  more  calls  from 
the  Sister  of  Charity.  His  condition,  duly 
reported  by  Maggie,  was  not  such  as  to  require  her 
further  attention:  Deacon  "Wauberton's  apprehen- 
sions concerning  him  were  not  realized.  He  did  not 
have  a  fever,  nor  any  other  recognized  disease ;  but, 
either  from  the  effect  of  Lucy's  visit,  or  because  he  dis- 
pensed with  medical  advice,  or  because  he  really  was 
not  seriously  ill,  his  convalescence  was  surprisingly 
rapid. 

Meantime  Lucy's  ministry  of  kindness  called  her 
again  to  the  Ottway  Tract.  It  was  she  who  laid  fresh 
flowers  on  the  sleeper's  breast,  and  let  God's  air  and 
sunshine  into  the  darkened  room.  It  was  she  who 
told  the  husband  the  story  of  the  peaceful,  beautiful 
death,  weeping  and  smiling  with  him  as  they  dwelt  upon 
it.  It  was  she  who  comforted  the  motherless  girls, 
and  aided  with  counsel,  taste,  and  handiwork  in  such 
changes  as  were  needful  in  the  simple  wardrobe. 

"  Now,  about  mourning  bonnets  and  dresses," 
said  the  deacon.  "  You  know  what  is  suitable,  Miss 
Darling." 

296 


BETTER  ACQUAIXTAXCE.  297 

"O  Mr.  Lorimcr  !     You  don't  mean  black." 

"  I  supposed  it  was  the  custom,  that's  all." 

"But  is  it  a  Christian  custom?  Has  not  Chris- 
tianity surrounded  death  with  all  that  is  bright  and 
glad  ?  And  here  in  this  house  have  we  not  witnessed 
it  as  a  glorious  translation?  Let  us  not  belie  it  all 
and  wrap  ourselves  in  sackcloth.  Do  you  think  that 
she,  in  her  shining  white  to-day,  would  like  to  see  her 
dear  girls  draped  in  black  ?  " 

Lottie  lifted  a  sad  little  face  from  Lucy's  shoulder 
to  say,  u  Once  mother  tried  to  tell  us  what  to  do 
after  she  died  ;  and  she  said  not  to  put  on  mourning 
for  her  ;  but  then  we  began  to  cry,  and  she  cried,  too, 
and  did  n't  say  any  more." 

The  listeners  did  the  same  —  cried,  and  said  no 
more. 

The  day  of  the  funeral  seemed  like  a  day  of  tri- 
umph. The  room  was  bright  with  flowers,  arranged 
by  Lucy  and  Maggie.  Their  hands  had  also  covered 
the  casket  and  the  undertaker's  stiff  funeral  crape 
with  soft,  cri'aiii-tiiitrd  draperies,  amid  which  the 
sleeper  lay,  as  on  a  royal  couch.  The  distant  rela- 
tives came  in  black,  and  so  did  such  of  the  neighbors 
as  possessed  garments  of  the  conventional  color.  But 
the  girls  were  dressed  in  white,  as  for  a  f£te,  and 
carried  flowers  in  their  hands. 

The  whole  service  was  suggestive  of  joy  and  vie- 


298  THE  KOCKANOCK  STAGE. 

tory.  There  was  no  funeral  sermon  ;  no  attempt  to 
harrow  up  the  feelings  of  the  mourners  under  pretense 
of  comforting  them  ;  no  intimation  that  there  were  any 
mourners  at  all,  but  a  recognition  of  the  divine  and 
gracious  meaning  of  the  event  which  had  made  that 
house  as  the  house  of  God  and  the  very  gate  of 
heaven. 

"Queer  kind  of  a  funeral,  wasn't  it?"  remarked 
one  neighbor  to  another  as  they  went  toward  the 
cemetery. 

"Oh,  well  enough  !     Rather  short  for  a  funeral." 

"Awful  short.  No  sermon,  you  see;  no  remarks 
at  all." 

"One  thing  I  did  like,  though;  he  read  real  Scrip- 
ture, right  out  of  the  Book,  not  that  sort  of  hodge- 
podge of  chopped-up  texts,  such  as  some  of  these 
modern  parsons  use." 

"  The  singing  was  uncommonly  good,  don't  you 
think  ?  " 

"  Extra  good.  Kind  of  a  picked-up  choir,  too,  I 
guess.  That  long-whiskered  fellow  that  sings  at  their 
church  wasn't  there." 

"He!  I  guess  not.  Don't  you  know  who  he  is? 
He  's  that  MacAllan,  the  land  shark,  they  took  up  the 
other  day  over  at  Tumbleville."" 

"Is  that  the  fellow?  Well,  I  guess  he  won't  sing 
at  many  funerals  out  this  way  very  soon." 


BETTER  ACQUAIXTAXCE.  299 

44  Some  of  us  may  have  to  sing  at  his,  if  he  don't 
mind  his  p's  and  q's  a  little  better." 

"  Well,  call  on  me  any  time." 

On  the  evening  of  the  day  succeeding  the  funeral, 
Mr.  MacAllan,  so  rapid  was  his  recovery,  felt  himself 
equal  to  a  drive.  Ordering  his  horse  to  be  sent  up,  he 
went  to  Dr.  Ashley's  and  asked  for  Miss  Darling. 
The  time  was  now  past  when  he  must  watch  for  favor- 
able chances  to  call,  or  contrive  stratagems  in  order  to 
gain  interviews  with  her.  He  contrasted  their  present 
relation  with  that  in  which  they  had  stood  a  few  weeks 
ago,  and  congratulated  himself  upon  the  change. 
IIo\v  would  she  meet  him  to-day?  He  was  not  long 
left  in  doubt.  She  treated  him  kindly,  though  not 
with  the  affectionate  cordiality  for  which  he  had  hoped. 
'•  I  came  to  return  your  call,"  he  said. 

u  Oh,  thank  you !  "  she  replied,  smiling  faintly. 
"  You  are,  I  believe,  the  only  gentleman  whom  I  ever 
placed  under  such  an  obligation."  There  was  a  mani- 
fest constraint  in  her  manner  which  he  found  disap- 
pointing. He  was  no  longer  a  disabled  knight  whose 
helplessness  appealed  to  the  pity  of  a  Sister  of  Charity. 
The  only  claim  he  still  had  upon  her  in  that  capacity 
was  on  the  ground  of  his  exposure  to  what  she  be- 
lieved to  be  the  unmerited  disfavor  of  his  neighbors. 

"  I  am  proud  of  the  distinction,  I  assure  you,"  he 
said,  "  and  will  try  to  show  my  appreciation  of  it." 


300  THE  EOCKANOCK  STAGE. 

She  wondered  in  what  way  he  meant  to  show  it,  and 
being  not  quite  sure  what  a  discreet  answer  would  be, 
said  nothing. 

He  was  too  conceited  to  appreciate  the  cause  of  her 
changed  behavior,  but  attributed  it  to  maiden  coyness. 
"Of  course,"  he  said  to  himself,  "she  will  not  make 
advances ;  that  is  my  business.  This  loss  of  her 
ordinary  offhand  gayety  is  a  good  sign.  She  knows 
her  fate  is  at  hand,  and  feels  nervous  about  it." 

"  You  are  quite  well  again,  I  hear,"  she  said. 

"  Quite  well  is  rather  too  much  to  say.  I  am  equal 
to  the  enjoyment  of  a  pleasure,  if  you  will  grant  it  me." 

"  Which  of  your  pleasures  can  depend  upon  me?" 

He  was  upon  the  point  of  saying  that  all  his  happi- 
ness depended  upon  her.  He  almost  believed  that 
that  was  the  answer  she  Avished  and  expected  him  to 
make.  But  he  would  not  venture  it  here.  Wait  till 
they  were  less  liable  to  interruption.  "The  other 
night  you  asked  me  to  ride  with  you  ;  allow  me  to 
reciprocate  the  invitation.  My  horse  is  at  the  door, 
and  I  am  at  your  service." 

She  accepted  the  invitation  with  thanks,  though  not 
with  the  eagerness  which  he  would  have  liked.  "  Shall 
I  need  a  wrap?"  she  asked  with  charming  deference 
to  his  judgment  as  she  went  to  make  herself  ready. 

"  It  would  be  more  prudent  to  take  it,"  he  replied, 
being  secretly  certain  that  they  were  to  have  a  long 
ride  and  a  late  return. 


BETTER  ACQUAINTANCE.  301 

Passing  Mrs.  Ashley's  door,  Lucy  stopped  to  tell  her 
that  she  was  going  to  ride  with  Mr.  MacAllan. 

"Going  to  ride  with  Mr.  MacAllan!"  Helen  re- 
peated, with  marked  emphasis  upon  the  name  and  an 
inflection  denoting  both  surprise  and  regret. 

"Certainly.     AVhy  not?  " 

"Oh,  I  don't  know!  I  couldn't  give  any  very 
decisive  reasons  for  not  going,  but"  — 

"But  I  can  give  decisive  reasons  for  going." 

'*  For  instance?" 

"  It  will  show  that  I  don't  believe  him  to  be  a  pirate." 

"  Suppose  it  turns  out  that  he  is?" 

"  Then  I  will  own  myself  a  fool ! "     So  she  went. 

The  ride  proved  entirely  agreeable.  Once  upon  the 
road  she  was  herself  again.  The  air,  the  motion,  the 
scenery,  the  scent  of  fields  and  woods,  exhilarated 
her.  Mr.  MacAllan  had  never  .seen  her  so  vivacious 
or  so  affable.  She  had  never  found  him  so  entertain- 
ing. They  talked  of  New  England  and  of  Old  Eng- 
land, of  pleasant  rambles  here  and  there,  of  scenes 
famous  and  scenes  romantic. 

Mr.  Mac-Allan  tried  again  and  again  so  to  shape  the 
conversation  as  to  bring  it  to  the  point  where  he  could 
introduce  the  topic  uppermost  in  his  own  thoughts,  but 
he  could  never  succeed  in  doing  so.  She  betrayed  no 
suspicion  of  his  design,  yet  seemed  instinctively  to 
shun  the  point  to  which  he  would  bring  her. 


302  THE   ROCKAXOCK  STAGE. 

They  rode  neither  long  nor  late.  Much  as  he  wished 
to  protract  the  pleasure,  and  reluctant  as  he  was  to 
give  up  his  main  purpose,  she  contrived  to  guide  and 
limit  the  excursion,  without  seeming  to  know  that  she 
did.  So  the  daylight  still  lingered,  and  the  wrap  was 
still  folded  when  they  stopped  at  Dr.  Ashley's  gate. 
She  thanked  him  for  the  ride,  which  she  pronounced 
a  great  pleasure.  He  expressed  the  hope  that  it  might 
soon  be  repeated.  She  said  neither  yes  nor  no,  but 
thanked  him  again  in  a  way  that  he  interpreted  to 
mean,  "There  will  be  no  difficulty  about  that." 

The  major  was  smoking  his  cigar  in  the  garden,  and 
came  forward  in  time  to  open  the  gate  for  her  and 
fling  a  curt  good  evening  to  her  escort.  She  greeted 
him  affectionately,  and,  taking  his  arm,  walked  up  and 
down  the  garden  path  with  him,  telling  him  where 
they  had  been  and  what  they  had  seen.  He  was  not 
very  responsive,  but  could  not  find  it  in  his  heart  to 
give  her  the  scolding  which  he  had  prepared  for  her. 
She  gave  no  sign  that  she  observed  his  ill-humor,  but 
chatted  on  in  her  gayest  strain  till  she  had  completely 
charmed  the  evil  spirit  from  him  ;  then  she  went  to 
her  room,  locked  the  door,  and  cried  for  an  hour. 
She  knew  that  her  course  was  disapproved  by  the  entire 
family,  and  the  knowledge  brought  a  sense  of  es- 
trangement which  was  hard  to  bear.  Yet,  upon  a  care- 
ful review  of  all  the  circumstances,  she  was  confirmed 


BETTER  ACQUAIXTA.YCE.  303 

in  the  opinion  that  she  was  right  aud  they  were  wrong. 
As  a  conscientious  girl,  therefore,  she  must  do  what 
was  right,  however  unhappy  it  might  make  her. 

Let  it  not  be  supposed  that  Mr.  MacAllan  had  lost 
caste  in  Rockby  society,  or  that  even  those  who 
thought  worst  of  him  attributed  to  him  any  misde- 
meanors which,  as  selfish  human  nature  goes,  would 
seriously  affect  his  business  or  social  standing.  He 
had  simply  been  re-classified.  Instead  of  a  high- 
minded  gentleman  of  means,  taking  conscientious 
care  of  his  own  property,  and  consenting,  as  a  special 
favor,  to  do  a  limited  amount  of  strictly  first-class 
business  for  other  high-mimk'd  gentlemen,  he  was 
discovered  to  be  just  as  low-minded  and  capable  of 
acting  just  as  sordid  a  part  as  any  one  of  a  dozen 
substantial  citizens  of  the  town.  No  one  looked  upon 
him  as  a  criminal.  No  one  thought  of  shutting  him 
out  of  good  society.  His  delinquencies  were  not 
generally  regarded  as  serious.  But  they  were  of  pre- 
cisely that  character  which  make  a  reputable  man  the 
object  of  secret  contempt. 

Among  the  proofs  quoted  in  evidence  of  his  un- 
scrupulousness  were  advertisements  in  The  Rock  by 
Interview,  The  Turnbleville  Gazette,  and  other  local 
pripers,  of  foreclosure  proceedings,  in  which  appeared 
the  name  of  Jacob  Krauntz  as  the  creditor.  Jacob 
Kraunt/,  was  known  in  the  region  as  the  meanest  and 


301  THE  ItOCKASOCK  STAGE. 

most  oppressive  of  usurers  ;  and  Mr.  MacAllan  was 
known  to  be  his  agent.  Several  cases  were  cited  in 
which  notes  had  been  extended  at  exorbitant  rates, 
or  settlements  forced  with  the  most  relentless  severity, 
—  all  in  the  interest  of  Jacob  Krauntz,  and  all  through 
the  direct  or  indirect  agency  of  Mr.  MacAllan. 

The  Ottway  business  was  notorious  and  unsavory. 
The  means  which  had  been  resorted  to  for  clouding 
the  titles,  the  contemptible  tricks  employed,  the  mean 
advantage  taken  of  the  ignorance  of  some  owners  and 
of  the  poverty  of  others,  had  not  only  exasperated 
tlie  settlers  themselves,  but  secured  for  them  the  sym- 
pathy of  the  surrounding  population.  To  be  in  any 
capacity  an  accomplice  in  these  frauds  was  infamous. 

The  twentieth  day  of  August  did  not  begin  the 
decline  and  fall  of  Mr.  MacAllan.  It  only  brought 
to  the  public  a  chance  to  speak  its  mind  about  him 
when  he  was  at  a  ridiculous  disadvantage.  The  hunt- 
ing episode  was  of  consequence  only  from  its  relation 
to  the  business  of  which  he  attempted  to  make  it  a 
cover.  It  enabled  his  adversaries  to  make  him  a 
laughing-stock,  and  gave  them  an  opportunity  to 
direct  public  attention  to  his  alleged  piracy. 

Some  people  took  serious  views  of  his  offenses,  and 
wondered  how  such  a  man  was  still  permitted  to  sing 
in  a  church  choir,  or  to  move  in  respectable  society. 
A  mucn  larger  number  looked  upon  him  as  a  sharp 


BETTER  ACQUAINTANCE.  305 

and  rather  grasping  fellow,  but  not  much  worse  than 
others  in  his  line  of  business.  A  few  believed  him  to 
have  been  himself  the  victim  of  swindlers,,  from  whom 
he  had  made  haste  to  deliver  himself  the  moment  he 
discovered  their  character. .  To  this  charitable  minor- 
ity belonged  the  Waubertons  and  Miss  Lucy  Darling. 
They  had  the  statement  from  his  own  lips,  and  were 
positive  that  he  spoke  the  truth. 

Lucy's  faith  in  Mr.  MacAllan's  integrity  increased 
upon  further  acquaintance.  She  had  had  no  experi- 
ence with  dishonorable  people,  and  could  not  believe 
that  one  of  them  could  act  so  like  an  honest  man. 
She  sang  with  him  in  the  church  choir,  and  frequently 
accepted  his  escort  to  and  from  rehearsal.  She  took 
many  a  drive  with  him  behind  the  horse  which  she 
did  not  suspect  to  have  been  bought  solely  on  her 
account. 

They  talked  of  many  things  together,  and  always 
with  mutual  satisfaction.  He  showed  the  greatest 
respect  for  her  opinions,  and  commonly  agreed  with 
them.  She  could  not  but  be  struck  with  the  contrast 
between  him  and  the  minister.  Whereas  Mr.  Austin 
often  differed  with  her  and  sought  strenuously  to  con- 
vince her  of  her  mistakes,  Mr.  MacAllan's  views  and 
her  own  were  almost  always  in  harmony.  She  ob- 
served, too,  that  lie  rarely  led  in  conversation,  but 
waited  for  her  to  do  so.  He  did  not  propose  topics, 


306  THE  EOCKANOCK  STAGE. 

but  took  those  proposed  by  her.  Often  it  seemed  as 
though  they  had  been  in  his  own  mind  at  the  very 
moment  that  she  recurred  to  them. 

Even  the  most  serious  subjects  were  welcomed  by 
him.  When  Lucy  referred  to  the  theme  of  a  recent 
sei'mon,  or  to  the  next  week's  Sunday-school  lesson, 
or  to  some  high  spiritual  truth  upon  which  she  had 
been  meditating,  he  was  all  attention.  His  religious 
views  did  not  seem  to  be  formed,  nor  did  he  always 
catch  her  meaning,  but  he  was  so  serious,  so  candid, 
so  anxious  to  get  at  the  truth  that  she  began  to  be- 
lieve that  she  was  the  only  one  who  really  knew  him. 
And  when  he  would  sigh  and  relapse  into  silence,  or 
make  some  tender  reference  to  his  mother,  or  say, 
"Ah,  Miss  Darling,  what  would  I  not  give  for  such 
a  faith  as  yours  ! "  she  was  full  of  grief  and  pity  for 
him. 

In  truth,  Mr.  Mac  Allan  was  not  altogether  the 
hypocrite  he  might  seem.  He  loved  Lucy,  and  ad- 
mired everything  that  she  did.  The  beautiful  Chris- 
tian character  which  she  showed,  and  the  pure  and 
noble  thoughts  which  she  expressed,  made  a  profound 
impression  upon  his  mind.  He  really  wished  that  he 
might  share  with  her  so  sweet  and  holy  a  thing  as  her 
religion.  He  sometimes  really  persuaded  himself  that 
he  was  sincerely  seeking  the  truth  5  and  when  she  one 
day  alluded  to  her  purpose  of  uniting  with  the  church 


.    BETTER  ACQUAINTANCE.  307 

on  the  next  sacramental  occasion,  he  was  almost  ready 
to  offer  himself  also  as  a  candidate. 

There  was  one  marked  exception  to  the  attitude  of 
passivity  respecting  topics  of  discourse.  There  was 
one  topic  of  which  he  never  lost  sight,  and  to  which 
he  was  always  seeking  to  lead  the  conversation,  and 
always  without  success.  Ride  after  ride  they  took ; 
hour  after  hour  they  talked;  but  a  fitting  time  to  say 
what  he  wished  he  could  not  find.  That  she  knew  his 
heart  and  reciprocated  its  affection  he  had  not  a  doubt, 
but  .she  would  never  let  him  speak  out.  "We  have 
not  yet  gone  through  the  ceremony  of  declaration  and 
acceptance,"  he  wrote  to  Pack,  "  but  it  is  perfectly 
understood  between  us.  I  am  only  waiting  for  exactly 
the  i  ight  lime,  and  she  knows  it.  I  've  carried  the 
engagement  ring  in  my  pocket  two  weeks.  Probably 
before  you  read  this  it  will  be  on  her  finger." 

Yet  the  next  interview  brought  him  no  nearer  to  the 
point.  There  seemed  to  be  a  spell  upon  him  that, 
try  as  he  would,  he  could  not  break.  It  was  rehearsal 
night,  and  her  singing  had  thrilled  him.  "  Perhaps," 
he  said  to  himself  as  they  walked  home  together, 
"  it  is  her  religion  that  makes  the  barrier  between 
us.  She  will  not  let  me  spe:;k  till  I  am  as  she  is." 
Never  did  religion  look  so  attractive.  He  sincerely 
thought  that  he  desired  it.  Would  he  desire  it  but 
for  her?  Probably  not.  But  what  did  that  prove? 


308  THE  ROCKANOCK  STAGE. 

That  she  was  the  one  who  was  sent  to  win  him  to  the 
faith. 

"  Miss  Darling,"  he  said,  "  I  have  a  special  request 
to  make  of  you." 

"  I  hope  it  is  one  that  I  can  grant,"  she  said. 

"You  can  easily  grant  it,  Miss  Darling,  and  it  would 
be  the  greatest  favor  you  could  do  me.  I  want  you  to 
pray  for  me." 

"  Why,  I "  —  she  began,  and  checked  herself. 
"What  do  you  want  me  to  pray  for?" 

"  That  I  may  be  a  Christian." 

"  Why  don't  you  ask  me  to  pray  that  you  may  pay 
your  debts  ?  " 

"  That  is  a  matter  of  volition." 

"  Yes,  under  divine  grace,  and  so  is  this." 

"  Will  you  not  pray  for  me,  then?  " 

"  Do  you  mean  to  be  a  Christian  ? " 

"  I  hope  to  be,  with  your  help." 

•'  If  you  depend  upon  my  help,  you  never  will  be  one." 

"  Will  you  not  pray  for  me,  then?" 

"  When  you  come  and  tell  me  that  you  pray  for 
yourself,  then  I  will  pray  for  you." 

He  bade  her  good  night  and  went  his  way,  re- 
flecting that  he  had  formed  no  purpose  to  be  a 
Christian,  but  had  only  consented  to  be  wrought 
upon  by  some  sweet  influence  from  the  woman  whom 
he  loved. 


SETTER  ACQUAINTANCE,  309 

Yet  Lucy  had  not  said  that  she  would  not  pray  for 
him.  She  only  refused  to  let  him  believe  that  her  act 
could  take  the  place  of  his.  She  did  pray  for  him. 
She  had  prayed  for  him,  morning  and  evening,  for 
many  a  day. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

UNCONSCIOUS    EVANGELISM. 

ON  a  Wednesday  evening  late  in  August,  Lezer 
called  upon  Dr.  Ashley  to  report  to  him  upon 
the  merits  of  a  horse,  concerning  whose  purchase  he 
had  been  consulted. 

"I  am  sorry  to  ask  you  to  come  again,"  said  the 
doctor,  "but  the  Standing  Committee  of  the  church  is 
in  session  here  this  evening.  Will  you  wait  till  we  are 
through  ?  or  come  another  time  ?  " 

"How  long  will  the  Standin'  Committee  be  a-set- 
tin'  ?  "  inquired  Lezer. 

"  Not  long.  'We  have  one  candidate  for  member- 
ship before  us,  that  is  all." 

"  Wall,  then  I  guess  I  '11  wait." 

The  doctor  was  about  to  show  him  into  the  office, 
when  he  checked  himself,  and  took  him  instead  to 
the  library,  a  cozy  little  room  at  the  rear  of  the  parlors. 
"  Make  yourself  at  home  here,"  he  said,  "  and  I  shall 
be  at  liberty  in  half  an  hour  at  the  farthest."  He 
passed  through  a  door  at  the  farther  corner  of  the 
room,  leaving  it  open  behind  him.  The  Committee 
was  in  session  in  the  adjoining  room ;  and  Lezer, 

310 


UXCO  \SCIO  US  EVANGELISM.  311 

without  seeing  or  being  seen,  was  compelled  to  Lear  all 
the  proceedings. 

The  first  sound  that  reached  him  was  that  of  Lucy's 
voice  ;  for  she  was  the  "  one  candidate  "  to  whom  the 
doctor  had  referred,  and  was  now  engaged  in  an  in- 
formal conversation  with  the  Committee  concerning 
her  religious  experience. 

"I  do  not  mean,"  she  said,  addressing  Mr.  Austin, 
"  that  no  stronger  influences  have  been  felt.  You 
have  unfolded  some  great  truths  to  my  mind,  and  so 
have  the  books  that  you  have  lent  me.  But  at  the 
ival  turning  points  in  my  religious  life,  if  I  may  call  it 
such,  the  new  direction  has  been  given  by  what  seemed 
a  mere  random  word. 

"The  very  first  of  them  met  me  on  my  way  here." 
She  related  the  conversation  with  Lezer  at  the  foot  of 
the  hill,  and  how  his  words  had  startled  here  :  "  Could 
a  man  stand  here  five  minutes,  with  his  eyes  and  ears 
open,  and  not  think  of  Him?  Could  a  woman?  Then 
they  hain't  got  no  heart !  " 

There  was  a  sudden  sound  in  the  library,  as  of  a 
man  starting  to  his  feet,  but  no  one  noticed  it  except 
the  doctor. 

"The  words  affected  me  deeply  at  the  moment," 
she  continued,  "and  they  returned  to  me  again  and 
again,  with  increasing  power,  till  they  filled  me  with 
shame  and  self -detestation. 


312  THE  nOCKANOCK  STAGE. 

'•  Then,  Mr.  Wauberton,  you  remember  that  we 
were  talking  that  same  night  about  church  matters, 
and  my  sister  called  me  a  pagan.  She  did  not  know 
how  true  it  was,  and  was  vexed  with  me  for  minding 
it,  but  the  word  haunted  me  and  would  not  let  me  rest. 

•k  Xext  came  little  Margie,  and  put  her  arms  around 
my  neck,  and  innocently  asked  me  if  I  was  going  to 
live  with  them  for  ever  and  ever.  That  was  the  most 
searching  message  of  all." 

"  And  then?"  asked  Mr.  Austin. 

"•  Then  came  your  sermon  on  our  Father's  love  ;  and 
then  came  his  love  itself,  and  all  the  rest." 

All  the  rest  was  not  told  or  required  ;  but  enough 
was  elicited  to  show  the  quality  of  Christian  life  with 
which  they  were  dealing.  Lucy  was  surprised  at  the 
freedom  with  which  she  found  herself  speaking  of 
these  things  before  such  a  company.  She  was  still 
more  surprised  to  find  that  she  had  said  all  that  was 
desired.  The  hard  questions  which  she  had  expected 
were  not  propounded.  Her  knowledge  of  theology 
was  not  investigated.  The  dreaded  "examination" 
proved  to  be  a  pleasant  conference  of  friends  upon 
matters  of  common  interest. 

Finding  that  nothing  more  was  expected  of  her,  she 
rose  to  go.  Most  of  the  Committee  rose  also ;  and 
several  of  those  whom  she  knew  best  came  about  her, 
with  pleasant  greetings  and  words  of  gratification. 


rvcoxsciors  EVAS<;I-:LISM.  313 

The  doctor  presently  drew  her  aside  and  said,  "The 
Committee  will  have  some  confidential  business,  Lu ; 
will  you  retire  to  the  library  for  a  few  moments?" 

Mr.  Austin  heard  the  suggestion,  and  wondered  at 
the  designation  of  the  library.  Lucy  went  there  at 
once,  closing  the  door  behind  her  as  she  entered.  The 
next  instant  she  uttered  an  exclamation  of  surprise. 
There  sat,  in  the  familiar  old  rusty,  dirt-brown  suit, 
with  his  elbows  on  his  knees  and  his  face  in  his  hands, 
the  awkward  figure  of  Lezer  Martin  ! 

At  the  sound  of  her  voice  he  lifted  his  head,  gath- 
ered his  gaunt  legs  under  him,  and  rose  to  his  feet.  A 
moisture  which  might  have  been  perspiration  was  visi- 
ble upon  his  leathery  cheeks.  He  took  the  hand  she 
offered  him  and  stood  pumping  it  up  and  down,  unable 
to  speak. 

"Mr.  Martin,"  said  Lucy,  making  no  attempt  to 
abridge  the  exercise  which  seemed  such  a  relief  to  him, 
"  I  owe  very  much  to  you.  I  did  not  suppose  I  was 
making  the  acknowledgment  in  your  hearing,  but  I 
could  not  do  less  than  make  it,  and  there  is  not  a 
word  to  take  back." 

"  Wall,"  said  he  in  a  broken  voice,  gradually  relax- 
ing the  violence  of  the  pumping,  "that  beats  my 
time  !  "  He  relinquished  her  hand. 

"  You  were  surprised  then?  " 

"  Land  !  it  jest  got  clean  away  with  me  I" 


314  THE  BOCKANOCK  STAGE. 

Dialect  and  slang  were  no  affectation  with  him,  but 
a  sort  of  mother-tongue,  used  with  the  utmost  uncon- 
sciousness. Lucy,  refined  as  she  was,  found  his 
speech  neither  shocking  nor  ludicrous,  but  only  in- 
tensely expressive. 

"  Why  should  not  you  be  an  evangelist  or  a  prophet, 
as  well  as  another?  "  she  asked. 

"  Wall,"  he  answered,  "  I  believe  the  Scriptur'  does 
tell  about  some  that  preaches  the  gospel  to  others  and 
is  themselves  a  castaway." 

"You  surely  don't  mean  to  apply  that  to  yourself?" 

"  That 's  just  about  the  size  of  it." 

"  You  a  castaway?  " 

"That's  what's  the  matter." 

"  You  shall  not  say  such  a  thing,  or  think  of  it  —  a 
sensible,  well-brought-up  man  like  you  !  Have  you  no 
heart  then?  I  know  you  have  one,  and  a  warm  one. 
How  can  you  shut  out  of  it  the  best  Friend  you  have 
in  the  world  ?  " 

The  doctor  had  no  talk  with  Lezer  that  night  about 
horses,  or  upon  any  other  subject.  At  a  late  hour 
Lucy  brought  him  the  stage  driver's  excuses,  which 
he  accepted  with  entire  satisfaction.  "  You  think  it 
strange,  Lu,"  he  said,  "  that  I  should  contrive  to 
have  him  hear  what  you  said  to-night,  and  then  send 
you  to  him  ?  " 

"  I  did  wonder  at  it,  though  I  am  very  glad   of  it 


S  EVANGELISM.  315 

now.  What  reason  had  you  to  think  he  would  be 
interested  in  my  religious  history?" 

"  He  told  me  something  of  your  first  conversation, 
and  has  recurred  to  it  several  times  since.  '  Has 
Miss  Darlin'  took  a  stand  yit?'  he  would  say.  When 
Jie  found  that  you  were  going  to  join  the  church,  he 
\va-  as  delighted  as  if  he  were  your  own  father.  '  I 
knowed,'  said  he,  '  she  wa'u't  fur  from  the  kingdom  of 
heaven.' " 

"  I  think  the  same  might  be  said  of  him,  Tom, 
don't  you? " 

11  We  never  talked  about  that.  He's  a  big-souled 
fellow,  and  would  take  on  a  strong  type  of  religious 
character,  if  any." 

"  I  want  Mr.  Austin  to  see  him,  and  I  shall  ask  him 
to.  Lexer  has  great  respect  for  him." 

"  So  has  everybody  of  sense  or  character." 

"  Oh,  Tom  !  why  must  Mr.  Austin  be  away  on  com- 
munion Sabbath?  " 

'•  It  is  necessary  to  have  an  ordained  minister." 

••  Why  necessary?  " 

"In  our  denomination  it  is  thought  improper  for 
any  unordained  person  to  administer  the  sacraments. 
M  r.  Austin  himself  feels  so." 

"  Then  why  don't  he  obtain  ordination?" 

"  That  is  his  wish  and  ours.  "We  shall  call  .a  coun- 
cil for  that  purpose  in  a  few  weeks." 


316  THE  ROCKANOCK  STAGE. 

u  Before  the  next  communion?  The  next  after  this, 
I  mean." 

"  Probably." 

Lucy  made  no  response,  but  bade  the  doctor  good 
night.  The  next  day  she  surprised  Mr.  Austin  by 
announcing  that  she  had  decided  to  wait  a  few  weeks 
before  joining  the  church.  Had  her  views  changed  so 
suddenly  ?  No.  Had  she  discovered  anything  to  stum- 
ble her  in  the  creed  or  the  covenant  of  the  church? 
No.  Had  any  member  given  her  offense?  No.  She 
•begged  him  not  to  ask  her  reason,  but  to  acquiesce  in 
her  decision.  He  replied  that  it  was  not  a  question  of 
his  acquiescence,  but  of  her  conscientious  judgment, 
in  which  he  had  implicit  confidence. 

u  I  don't  know  why  I  need  hesitate  to  explain  to 
you,  Mr.  Austin,"  she  finally  said.  "  I  want  you 
to  receive  me  to  the  church.  You  have  been  my 
teacher  from  the  first;  and  I  cannot  bear  that  any 
other  hands  should  baptize  me,  or  any  other  voice 
pronounce  the  vows  that  I  am  to  take  upon  me.  Let 
me  wait  till  you  are  ordained  —  please  do !  " 

Mr.  Austin  was  deeply  moved  by  this  appeal. 
"  Miss  Darling,"  he  said,  "  it  would  be  a  greater  pleas- 
ure to  me  than  you  can  imagine  to  be  permitted  to  wel- 
come you  into  the  church.  I  have  thought  much  about 
it,  and  have  discussed  with  myself  this  very  plan  of 
having  you  wait  till  I  was  qualified  to  officiate." 


UNCONSCIOUS  EVANGELISM.  317 

"Oh,  I  am  very  glad!  I  did  not  suppose  you 
would  care." 

"  I  care  a  great  deal,  Miss  Darling;  but  "  — 

"  Let  us  have  no  '  buts ' ;  the  thing  is  settled." 

"  I  cannot  think  it  right  to  settle  it  in  that  way." 

"  O  Mr.  Austin  !  " 

"  No.  You  are  to  perform  a  high  and  sacred  act. — 
the  public  recognition  of  your  adoption  as  a  child  of 
the  King." 

"I  am  just  as  much  the  King's  daughter  now  as  I 
shall  be  then.  That  does  not  depend  upon-  the  service 
or  the  time  when  it  is  performed." 

"No;  but  to  make  the  service  or  the  time  of  it 
depend  upon  the  one  who  officiates  at  it  is  to  give  the 
chief  importance  to  the  King's  servant,  instead  of  to 
the  King." 

"  Yes,  were  he  a  servant  merely,  but  he  is  not.  If 
I  am  the  King's  daughter,  are  not  you  his  son  ?  And 
do  you  think  the  King  would  chide  his  daughter 
because  she  would  have  the  prince,  her  brother,  present 
at  her  coronation?  " 

They  said  these  things  to  each  other  as  unreservedly 
and  as  innocently  as  children.  That  a  sentimental 
construction  could  be  put  upon  their  words  by  the 
most  imaginative  mind  did  not  occur  to  them.  Having 
lived  under  the  same  roof,  seeing  each  other  many 
times  each  day,  finding  much  of  common  interest  to 


318  THE  EOCKANOCK  STAGE. 

speak  of,  and  each  of  them  understanding  at  the  out- 
set that  the  affections  of  the  other  were  already  fixed 
for  life,  their  intercourse,  since  his  first  shyness  and 
awkwardness  wore  off,  had  been  singularly  free.  The 
relation  of  brother  and  sister,  to  which  Lucy  referred, 
began  to  have  more  than  a  nominal  existence  between 
them.  The  passion  of  his  life  was  to  unfold  the 
highest  of  all  truth  to  the  human  mind,  and  to  help 
and  persuade  others  to  receive  it.  She  was  passing 
through  that  great  spiritual  revolution  where  she  was 
intensely  eager  for  spiritual  light,  and  ready  to  wel- 
come and  follow  it.  She  never  tired  of  hearing,  or 
he  of  talking,  of  the  wonderful  things  concerning  the 
new  world  into  which  she  was  emerging.  He  showed 
remarkable  aptness  in  understanding  her  and  giving 
her  just  the  aid  she  needed  ;  she  was  quick  to  appre- 
hend his  meaning  and  ready  to  be  instructed. 

It  is  small  wonder  that  under  such  conditions  their 
acquaintance  advanced  so  rapidly,  and  that  they  had 
already  developed  a  quality  of  friendship  possible  only 
between  pure  and  sympathetic  minds  meeting  habitually 
on  the  highest  plane  of  thought. 

Nor  was  Lucy  the  only  one  spiritually  benefited  by 
this  intercourse.  While  he  had  a  more  complete  mas- 
tery of  the  subjects  discussed,  and  greater  readi- 
iness  in  stating  and  enforcing  his  views,  she  often 
excelled  him  in  clearness  of  insight  and  always  in 


ff.vco.VM 'mi r&  /•: i '. i .v i : KL ISM.  319 

fervor  of  religious  feeling.  He  fell,  therefore,  into 
the  way  of  discussing  with  her  beforehand  the  themes 
of  his  sermons  and  the  details  of  parish  work,  and 
sometimes  his  own  spiritual  moods  and  musings. 
Little  by  little  she  became  a  part  of  his  life.  Some- 
thing of  her  was  wrought  into  all  that  he  did.  He 
was  indebted  to  her  for  many  a  valuable  suggestion, 
for  occasional  salutary  criticism,  and  for  unfailing 
sympathy  and  encouragement. 

Lucy  never  forgot  the  vicarious  character  which  she 
had  assumed.  "  That  Eastern  girl,"  whom  she  had 
from  the  first  associated  with  him,  was  always  present 
to  her  thought  when  he  was  present  to  her  sight.  And 
as  she  formed  a  higher  and  higher  opinion  of  his 
character,  her  conception  of  his  betrothed  rose  in 
proportion.  Surely  it  could  be  only  some  one  very 
lovely  and  very  good  who  could  possess  and  fill  such 
a  heart  as  his. 

Between  Lucy  and  the  minister,  however,  intimate 
as  they  were  upon  certain  subjects,  there  had  never 
passed  a  word  upon  this.  She  wished  that  he  would 
sometimes  speak  of  it.  He  must  be  often  thinking  of 
the  far-off  friend ;  why  should  she  be  a  forbidden 
topic?  Did  he  really  care  for  her  as  a  man  ought  for 
the  one  who  was  to  share  his  life?  If  not,  how 
dreadful  it  was  ! 

One  day  Lucy  ventured  a  suggestion  that  was  likely 


320  THE  ROCKAXOCK  STAGE. 

to  call  forth  some  word  about  the  mysterious  maiden. 
He  seemed  worn.  A  weary  look  was  in  his  face  and 
his  lameness  was  visibly  increased.  Lucy  expostu- 
lated with  him  about  his  recklessness  concerning  his 
own  health. 

"  Even  if  you  will  not  be  prudent  for  your  own 
sake,"  she  said,  her  voice  trembling  a  little  and  her 
cheeks  flushing  a  good  deal  at  the  boldness  of  her 
speech,  "  have  you  not  a  stronger  motive?  Is  there 
not  some  one  whom  you  care  more  for  than  for  your- 
self, and  who  cares  more  for  you  than  all  the  world  ? 
Will  you  not  spare  yourself  for  her  sake?" 

He  sat  a  moment  looking  into  the  air,  as  if  her 
words  had  called  before  him  some  pleasant  dream  ; 
then  the  weariness  came  back  to  his  face,  and  he 
replied  :  "  A  man  must  either  be  very  much  in  love 
with  himself,  or  very  poor  in  friends,  if  there  were 
none  whose  wishes  and  well-being  were  dearer  to  him 
than  his  own." 

Lucy  did  not  like  the  answer  at  all.  How  could  he 
allude  to  the  strongest  attachments  of  life  in  these 
general  terms  ?  Either  he  did  not  love  the  girl  as  he 
ought,  or  she  was  not  worth  loving,  or  he  regarded 
Lucy's  reference  to  her  as  an  impropriety.  The  first 
two  suppositions  seemed  incredible,  and  she  adopted 
the  third.  It  hurt  her  sorely,  however,  and  she  could 
not  help  resenting  it.  She  had  spoken  out  of  the 


UNCOXSC10US  EVANGELISM.  321 

sincerest  regard  for  his  welfare  and  that  of  the 
absent  friend,  and  he  had  as  good  as  told  her  she 
was  impertinent !  "  I  will  engage  not  to  offend  you 
with  any  more  inquiries  in  that  direction,  sir,"  she 
said  mentally. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

A    REVIVAL    OF    CHIVALRY. 

progress  of  Mr.  MacAllan's  affairs  were  duly 
-*-  reported  to  his  lawyer  relative  at  No.  43,  and 
called  forth  from  him  the  heartiest  congratulations, 
though  not  without  a  word  of  caution  against  over- 
coufklence  and  recklessness.  "Take  care,  my  boy," 
wrote  Mr.  Pack,  "you  may  spoil  it  all  yet  by  an  im- 
prudent step.  Don't  risk  anything.  Don't  take 
things  for  granted." 

He  affected  to  make  light  of  the  hunting  incident. 
"  I  laughed  heartily,"  said  he,  "over  your  encounter 
with  a  country  justice !  Justice,  indeed !  I  know 
well  the  character  of  such  tribunals.  There  is  no 
place  on  earth  where  such  a  burlesque  upon  justice  is 
to  be  met  with.  But  the  best  joke  of  all  was  that 
forfeiture  dodge.  Why,  there  is  no  such  provision  in 
the  Wisconsin  law !  The  newspaper  clipping  by 
which  you  allowed  yourself  to  be  beaten  out  of  your 
coat  and  fifty  dollars  must  have  been  taken  from  a 
paper  printed  in  some  other  State,  or  possibly  in 
Canada  or  England.  But  it  makes  no  difference.  It 
was  the  best  thing  that  ever  happened  to  you.  Made 


A   REVIVAL    OF  CHIVALRY. 


a   hero  of    you  at  once,  don't  "you  see?     The  elder 
t-ays  he  could  n't  have  contrived  it  better  himself." 

To  Mr.  MacAllan's  surprise,  his  withdrawal  from 
the  Ottway  business  was  not  opposed  by  Mr.  Pack. 
"  You  are  undoubtedly  right,"  wrote  the  lawyer. 
"  You  could  not  continue  openly  to  act  in  the  matter 
without  sacrificing  your  interests,  and  in  fact  ours 
too.  So  be  it.  Give  out  that  you  have  cut  us  for 
good  and  all,  and  denounce  us  as  swindlers,  land 
jumpers,  and  all  the  rest  of  it.  Don't  be  afraid  of 
Lulling  our  feelings.  We  have  n't  any.  In  this  way 
you  will  clear  your  own  character  and  put  yourself  in 
just  the  position  to  help  us  on  the  sly.  We  will  still 
depend  on  you  as  a  confidential  agent  ;  you  will  get 
your  commissions,  keep  on  the  right  side  of  Uncle  - 
Jacob,  tiirow  dust  in  the  eyes  of  your  fellow  saints  in 
Kockby,  win  the  approbation  of  my  lady,  and  avenge 
yourself  on  the  rascals  that  fleeced  you.  The  elder 
and  I  have  talked  the  matter  over,  and  he  entirely 
approves  this  plan.  I  may  add  that  I  could  n't  possi- 
bly manage  Uncle  Jacob  on  any  other;  and  you  know 
!1  as  I  do  that  he's  your  only  hope.  What  do 
you  say  ?" 

Mr.  Mac-Allan's  courage  for  wrongdoing  was  always 
toned  up  and  his  conscience  toiu-d  down  by  Pack's 
letters.  lie  replied  that  the  plan  suited  him  to  a  dot, 
and  that  they  might  depend  on  him  for  secret  service 


324  THE  KOCKAXOCK  STAGE. 

and  for  public  abuse.  Thenceforward  Nat  Jennings 
became  the  ostensible  representative  of  Mr.  Krauntz's 
interests  in  the  Ottway  lands.  He  and  Mr.  MacAllan 
ceased  to  recognize  each  other  on  the  street,  and  made 
pretense  of  mutual  detestation.  Nat's  friends  in- 
formed him  that  MacAllan  was  saying  hard  things 
about  him  and  his  employers.  Mr.  MacAllan's  friends 
warned  him  that  Jennings  was  muttering  dark  threats 
against  him. 

The  effect  of  this  little  farce  upon  the  Rockby  pub- 
lic was  not  all  that  might  have  been  expected,  but 
inured  on  the  whole  to  Mr.  MacAllan's  advantage. 
Some,  indeed,  were  reminded  of  familiar  adages 
about  glass  houses,  rogues  catching  rogues,  pots  call- 
ing kettles  black,  and  other  such  items  of  proverbial 
philosophy.  But  the  credulous  were  confirmed  in  their 
previous  charitable  opinions,  and  the  generous  in  their 
friendly  defense  of  the  whiskered  hero. 

Lucy  regarded  her  view  of  the  case  as  demonstrated 
beyond  question,  and  triumphantly  asked  the  male 
members  of  the  family  what  they  thought  now.  But 
they  maintained  an  exasperating  incredulity.  The 
minister  was  gravely  silent ;  the  doctor  was  boister- 
ously jocose. 

She  and  the  major  were  alone  when  she  challenged 
his  opinion  upon  this  new  evidence  of  Mr.  MacAllan's 
probity.  But  he  only  repeated  his  former  remark  that 
Mack  was  a  sly  one. 


A   REVIVAL    OF   CHIVALRY.  325 

It  was  almost  too  much  for  Lucy  to  bear,  and  she 
and  her  guardian  came  nearer  to  an  actual  quarrel 
than  they  had  ever  done  before.  She  was  angry  with 
him  for  what  she  looked  upon  as  perverse  and  un- 
founded prejudice,  and  still  more  for  the  sort  of 
amused  pity  with  which  he  seemed  to  regard  her 
credulity.  He  was  seriously  troubled  to  see  her  ready 
to  compromise  her  own  position  by  her  association 
with  this  sleek  villain,  and  deeply  pained  that  such  a 
fellow  should  come  between  him  and  his  ward.  There 
was  pretty  plain  speech  on  both  sides,  and  some  sharp 
word  thrusts  were  given  and  received. 

But  it  could  not  last.  They  were  too  fond  of  each 
other  to  quarrel.  Lucy's  anger  soon  changed  to  an 
equally  passionate  grief,  at  the  sight  of  whose  tears 
the  major  sprang  to  his  feet  in  unutterable  dismay. 
She  was  not  one  of  the  crying  sort.  Since  her  child- 
hood passed,  he  had  seldom  seen  her  in  tears,  and 
never  before  through  his  own  fault. 

"  My  poor  girl !  "  he  exclaimed,  "  have  I  made  you 
cry?  \Vhat  an  old  brute  I  am  !  " 

The  distance  by  which  her  new-grown  womanhood 
had  held  them  asunder — the  delicate  veil  of  maiden 
decorum  that  the  years  had  woven  about  her — van- 
ished in  a  moment.  She  was  before  him  again  as  a 
grieved  child,  his  charge  and  darling.  He  soothed 
and  pitied  her,  calling  her  pet  names,  and  denouncing 


326  THE  HOCKANOCK  STAGE. 

himself  as  an  idiot  and  a  ruffian,  till  she  looked  up 
laughing  in  his  face,  stopped  his  mouth  with  her  hand, 
and  told  him  that  his  little  finger  was  worth  a  whole 
regiment  of  MacAllans. 

An  uneven  step  in  the  hall,  approaching  the  open 
door  of  the  parlor  where  they  sat,  did  not  in  the  least 
disturb  this  scene.  Lucy  had  risen  to  her  feet  and 
stood  again  before  her  guardian,  a  blushing,  saucy 
woman,  when  a  confused,  "  Oh,  I  beg  your  pardon  !  " 
was  spoken  behiud  her. 

Mr.  Austin  had  heard  voices  in  the  parlor,  but, 
suspecting  nothing  of  a  private  nature,  had  entered 
without  hesitation,  and  coming  from  a  lighter  into 
a  darker  room,  had  taken  two  or  three  steps  towards 
the  speakers  before  discovering  the  situation.  Stu- 
pefied for  an  instant  by  the  sudden  surprise,  and  in- 
capable, through  his  infirmity,  of  a  nimble  retreat,  he 
had  seen  the  traces  of  recent  emotion  and  the  signs 
of  reconciliation,  and  had  heard  the  impassioned 
compliment  to  the  major's  little  finger.  Of  course 
there  could  now  be  no  doubt  in  his  mind  concerning 
the  relation  of  these  two  to  each  other. 

The  major  looked  a  trifle  confused,  not  to  say  sheep- 
ish, as  he  would  have  done  had  he  been  caught  in  any 
other  emotional  act  whatever.  But  Lucy  betrayed  no 
signs  of  annoyance.  She  did  not  do  things  that  she 
was  liable  to  be  ashamed  of. 


A   EEVIVAL   OF  CHZVALliY.  327 

"  We  have  hud  a  dreadful  time,  the  major  and  I!" 
she  said  with  a  rueful  look  at  the  discomfited  guar- 
dian ;  "a  regular  lovers'  quarrel,  Mr.  Austin,  and  all 
about  —  well,  no  matter  now.  We've  made  up  again, 
and  I  've  forgiven  him  everything." 

She  went  gayly  away,  touching  with  the  tips  of  her 
fingers  certain  parts  of  her  brown  braids  as  if  doubt- 
ful whether  all  was  as  secure  there  as  usual. 

"  Austin,"  said  the  major,  when  she  was  out  of 
hearing,  "that's  the  most  ingenuous,  large-hearted, 
sweet-natured  girl  that  ever  lived." 

"•  I  entirely  agree  with  you,"  responded  the  min- 
ister;  "you  are  certainly  to  be  congratulated,  Major 
Gibson." 

"I?  I  haven't  done  it.  She  don't  owe  anything 
to  me.  She  has  gained  all  her  good  qualities  in  spite 
of  me." 

"  She  would  not  admit  that,  sir,  I  am  sure." 

"I  tell  you  what  she  would  admit,  Austin  —  what 
she  does  admit,  and  I  admit  it  too ;  she  owes  a  great 
deal  to  you.  She  says  so,  and  I  know  it.  You've 
done  her  good." 

"  I  should  be  very  glad  to  think  so." 

"Well,  it  is  so.  I  used  to  think  she  was  good 
enough  as  she  was,  and  I  had  an  idea  that  religion 
would  spoil  her  ;  but  it  don't,  not  your  sort.  It  seems 
to  bring  out  her  character  —  brightens  up  everything 
—  sweetens  up  everything  — you  know  what  I  mean." 


328  THE  EOCKANOCK  STAGE. 

"Yes,  sir." 

"She's  happier,  too,  I  can  see  that,  though  she 
always  was  pretty  happy." 

"I  trust  her  happiness  will  prove  lasting."  He 
came  near  adding,  "when  it  is  entirely  in  your 
keeping." 

"  It  shall  not  be  destroyed  by  anything  that  I  can 
prevent,"  said  the  major  with  a  scowl. 

Mr.  Austin  rose  to  go.  "  Sit  down,"  said  the 
major,  "I  want  to  ask  you  a  question." 

"  Certainly." 

"If  you  don't  think  it's  a  fair  question,  or  would 
rather  not  answer  it,  say  so." 

"  That 's  fair,  anyway." 

"  What  do  you  think  of  this  MacAllan  fellow? " 

"You  intimate  your  own  opinion  by  your  way  of 
putting  the  question." 

"  I  don't  take  any  stock  in  him." 

"  Many  good  people  do." 

"JVIore  don't.  I  don't,  and  you  don't,  and  the  doc- 
tor does  n't ;  Lucy  does." 

"That  is  creditable  to  them  both." 

"How  so?" 

"It  is  creditable  to  him  that  he  can  win  the  confi- 
dence of  such  a  woman  ;  and  it  is  creditable  to  her 
that  she  is  more  willing  to  believe  good  than  evil  of 
a  man  under  a  cloud." 


A   EEVIVAL   OF  CHIVALRY.  329 

"  He  has  completely  bamboozled  her,  but  he  won't 
me.  I  'm  going  to  know  the  bottom  facts  in  this  busi- 
ness, and  before  I  'in  much  older,  too." 

He  inquired  no  further  for  Mr.  Austin's  opinion, 
but  shook  hands  with  him  in  token  of  mutual  under- 
standing. "  I  like  you,  Austin,"  said  he,  "  and  I 
trust  you,  and  so  does  she." 

"Thank  you,  thank  you,"  answered  the  minister, 
and  limped  away  as  Lucy  reentered  the  room,  bestow- 
ing upon  them  both  a  smile  of  impartial  friendliness. 

She  had  come  to  propose  to  the  major  a  plan  which 
she  had  been  meditating  for  the  relief  of  some  of  the 
more  unfortunate  of  the  Ottway  settlers,  whose  farms 
were  about  to  be  sold  under  mortgages  held  by  Jacob 
Krauntz.  The  worldly-wise  guardian  demurred.  She 
could  not  afford  to  tie  up  so  much  money.  The  set- 
tlers would  never  pay  either  principal  or  interest. 
She  would  simply  put  herself  into  Krauntz's  place,  and 
gain  their  hatred,  as  he  had. 

But  his  reasoning  went  for  nothing  with  her. 
Against  all  his  worldly  wisdom  she  set  her  pleading 
"I  want  to  do' it,"  and  carried  her  point,  as  usual. 
The  only  condition  which  he  insisted  upon  was  that 
Mr.  Mac  Allan  should  know  nothing  of  it.  To  this 
she  agreed,  stipulating  in  her  turn  that  her  name 
should  not  appear  in  the  business. 

It  was  a  notable  day  among  Mr.  Krauutz's  debtors 


330  THE  EOCKANOCK  STAGE. 

when  this  financial  missionary  visited  their  mortgaged 
homes  and  offered  them  the  means  of  paying  their 
debts  in  full,  through  new  loans,  on  long  time  and  at 
low  rates  of  interest.  But  it  is  doubtful  whether  any 
one  was  made  happier  than  the  major  himself.  He 
encountered  some  suspicion  at  first,  but  the  good 
offices  of  Deacon  Lorimer  removed  all  difficulties. 

The  farms  on  which  the  wily  Krauntz  had  made  his 
loans  were  the  most  valuable  in  the  tract.  Yet  he  had 
contrived  so  to  cloud  the  titles  by  claims  which  he 
himself  had  purchased  for  a  song,  that  they  were 
practically  unsalable.  Having  done  this  his  plan  was 
to  force  a  sale,  and  bid  them  in  at  his  own  price  —  a 
mere  fraction  of  their  actual  value. 

As  the  major  studied  the  situation,  and  learned 
upon  the  ground  some  of  the  facts  pertaining  to  this 
scheme,  he  became  more  ardent  than  Lucy  in  pursuit 
of  their  present  enterprise.  He  not  only  carried  out 
her  plans  in  full,  but  did  a  little  business  on  his  own 
account.  Finding  a  small  farm  for  sale  with  a  spe- 
cially insecure  title,  he  arranged  to  buy  it.  "  Now," 
said  he  to  the  deacon,  "  I  am  one  of  you,  and  will  try 
a  tilt  with  the  pirates  myself."  It  was  strictly  agreed, 
however,  that  for  the  present  no  use  should  be  made 
of  his  name. 

Lucy  received  his  report  with  delight,  the  chief 
source  of  which  was  her  satisfaction  at  seeing  him 


A  REVIVAL    OF  CHIVALRY.  331 

thoroughly  interested  in  a  work  of  practical  useful- 
It  seemed  to  her  the  promise  of  a  new  bond  of 
union  between  them.  She  asked  many  questions,  and 
tried  hard  to  understand  the  complicated  business,  as 
he  explained  it  to  her.  One  thing,  at  least,  was  sim- 
ple and  satisfactory  —  the  usurer's  victims  were  to  be 
delivered  from  his  power. 

"•  It  is  a  revival  of  chivalry,"  said  Lucy.  "  A  brave 
knight  rides  forth  in  metaphorical  armor,  to  resist 
injustice,  rectify  wrongs.  :md  save  the  oppressed." 

••  Ami  win  the  praises  and  affections  of  a  fair  lady," 
added  the  major. 

"Oh,  no;  praises  and  affections  are  guaranteed  in 
advance,  Sir  Knight." 

"  A  baldheaded,  rheumatic  knight  of  sixty  is  not 
a  very  romantic  champion,  but  there  's  lots  of  fight  in 
him,  my  dear." 

"  And  there  's  unlimited  admiration  in  me." 

"  Resignation  is  first  in  order ;  the  knight  and  the 
fair  lady  must  part  to-morrow." 

"  Part?     To-morrow?     How  can  that  be?  " 

"  I  must  ride  forth  to  the  wars." 

"  Oh  !  metaphorically,  you  mean." 

ki  Literally." 

"  Tell  me  what  you  literally  mean." 

"  I  am  going  to  the  land  of  the  infidel  and  the 
enemy  ;  the  castle  of  the  three  black  giants ;  the  den 
of  the  thousand-headed  dragon  —  Chicago  !  " 


332  THE  ROCKANOCK  STAGE. 

"  Not  to  stay?" 

"  Just  for  a  short  crusade,  say  three  days  or  four." 

"  I  will  say  three,  if  it  is  left  to  me ;  though  I 
would  not  have  our  good  cause  sacrificed  to  my 
wishes." 

"  What  will  you  do  in  the  mean  time?" 

"  Lock  myself  in  my  bower,  spin,  play  lovesick 
music,  spelled  with  a  k,  and  wish  for  my  lord's 
return." 

"  I  know  something  worth  two  of  that." 

"What  can  it  be?" 

"  Come  along  with  me." 

"Metaphorically?" 

"Literally." 

"  You  don't  really  mean  it,  major !  "  cried  Lucy 
with  childish  eagerness,  dropping  her  mediaeval  phrases 
in  her  excitement.  "Oh,  that  would  be  delightful! 
Will  you  truly  take  me  ?  " 

"If  it  would  give  you  pleasure." 

"I  should  enjoy  it  beyond  everything.  Three 
whole  days  —  I  think  on  further  reflection  I  would 
say  four  —  for  the  parks,  and  the  bookstores,  and 
a  sail  on  the  lake,  and  a  sight  of  poor  Grim,  and 
unlimited  shopping  and  ice  cream,  and  a  brave  knight, 
all  to  myself,  and  "  — 

"And  a  dose  of  Miss  Whortle's  insipidity  three 
times  a  day." 


A  REVIVAL   OF  CHIVALRY.  333 

"  Do  you  pretend  to  forget,  sir,  that  the  Whortles 
are  at  Mackinack  ?  " 

"Indeed,  now  I  think  of  it,  I  did  hear  something 
of  the  sort.  What  a  desert  the  old  Tremont  will  be  ! 
Well,  you  and  I  will  fetch  it  a  rose  or  two.  You  '11 
be  ready  for  the  eight  o'clock  stage  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir;  or  the  four  o'clock  one,  if  there  were 
any.  But  let  rne  see.  To-morrow  is  Tuesday.  One, 
two,  three,  four."  She  counted  the  days  on  her  fin- 
gers. "  I  must  be  back  by  Saturday  at  the  farthest ; 
for  next  Sunday,  you  know  "  — 

"I  know.  You  shall  be  back  without  fail,  my 
dear." 

A  rustle  of  garments  and  a  patter  of  feet  went  up 
the  stair,  and  a  ripple  of  song  came  down. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

A    QUESTION   OF    HONOR. 

TT1HE  scene  which  Mr.  Austin  had  involuntarily 
-*-  witnessed  in  the  parlor  settled  his  convictions 
upon  more  points  than  one.  It  removed  the  last 
vestige  of  doubt  as  to  the  relation  of  Lucy  and  the 
major.  That  they  were  affianced  was  as  plain  as  da}7. 
It  was  also  evident  that  they  had  had  a  quarrel  con- 
cerning Mr.  Mat-Allan,  ending  in  Lucy's  penitence  and 
the  renewal  of  her  fealty  to  the  major,  in  terms 
strongly  uncomplimentary  to  Mr.  MacAllan.  The 
major's  subsequent  conversation  with  Mr.  Austin,  his 
declaration  that  MacAllan  had  "bamboozled"  the  un- 
suspecting girl,  and  his  determination  to  "know  the 
bottom  facts "  concerning  him,  showed  that  he  did 
not  consider  her  safe  from  the  man's  influence. 

Mr.  Austin  had  no  fear  that  Lucy  would  coquette 
with  Mr.  MacAllau,  or  break  her  word  to  the  major 
on  his  account.  But  he  believed  her  in  great  danger 
of  compromising  herself  in  the  eyes  of  the  public,  if, 
indeed,  she  had  not  already  done  so.  Her  goodness  of 
heart  had  led  her  to  take  the  part  of  one  whom  she 
believed  to  be  unfairly  treated,  and  her  guileless  sim- 
plicity had  prevented  her  suspecting  the  risks  which 

334 


A   QUESTION   OF  HONOR.  335 

she  was  running  in  doing  so.  She  had  accepted  atten- 
tions from  Mr.  MacAllan  which  society  would  never 
justify  a  betrothed  woman  in  receiving  from  one  not 
her  intended  husband.  And  her  very  conscientious- 
ness would  lead  her  to  repeat  the  offense. 

Moreover,  Mr.  Austin  could  not  conceal  from  him- 
self the  possibility  that  an  agreeable,  attractive  man 
like  MacAllan  might  awaken  in  her  at  length  a  feeling 
stronger  thau  pity.  Then  what?  Either  to  keep  her 
troth  to  the  major,  and  give  him  her  hand,  while 
another  possessed  her  heart ;  or  to  cast  him  off  for  one 
who  was  utterly  unworthy  of  her,  and  incapable  of 
making  her  happy. 

"To  break  her  word  or  break  her  heart!"  said  the 
minister  bitterly.  ''It  is  a  terrible  alternative,  and 
must  be  averted.  But  how  ?  What  can  I  do  about  it  ?  " 

What,  indeed?  Could  he  warn  Lucy?  It  seemed 
an  unwarrantable  liberty,  and  would  no  doubt  be 
resented  as  an  insult  by  both  herself  and  the  major. 
Could  he  secure  the  interference  of  a  friend?  Mrs. 
Ashley,  for  instance?  or  Maggie  Wauberton?  This 
looked  equally  impossible.  What  warrant  had  he  for 
meddling  with  the  matter  anyway?  The  major  was 
the  one  to  protect  his  own  rights,  and  was  perfectly 
competent  to  do  so.  Perhaps  he  had  already  made 
her  promise  to  have  nothing  more  to  do  with  Mac  Allan. 

OIH:    thing,   however,   the   minister   resolved   to  do. 


336  THE  EOCKANOCK  STAGE. 

He  would  see  that  Mr.  Mac-Allan  was  distinctly  in- 
formed of  Miss  Darling's  betrothal.  If  after  that  he 
continued  his  attentions,  he  would  convict  himself  as  a 
deliberate  scoundrel. 

The  opportunity  was  soon  presented.  The  chorister 
made  the  usual  weekly  call  upon  the  minister  for  the 
list  of  hymns  for  the  coming  Sabbath,  and  learning 
that  Mr.  Austin  was  in,  went  directly  to  his  room. 
The  subject  of  church  music  led  naturally  to  that  of 
the  soprano  singer,  concerning  whom  the  caller  was 
even  more  eager  to  talk  than  the  minister  He  had 
heard  through  Maggie  of  this  sudden  flight,  and  was 
much  annoyed  by  it. 

"  The  visit  must  have  been  rather  unpremeditated," 
he  said  ;  "  I  met  her  yesterday,  and  she  did  not  men- 
tion it." 

"  She  did  not  consult  me  about  it  either,"  remarked 
Mr.  Austin  dryly,  "  though  I  had  not  thought  of  being 
surprised  at  that." 

Mr.  MacAllan  gave  him  a  look  of  amused  contempt, 
as  if  to  say,  "  Talking  to  you  and  talking  to  me  are 
two  very  different  things." 

"I  understand,"  added  the  minister,  "that  the 
major  was  called  to  Chicago  on  business." 

"He  needn't  have  dragged  her  along  with  him  in 
this  dog-day  heat." 

"On  the  contrary,  she  was  eager  to  go.  I  have 
never  seen  her  show  more  pleasure  at  anything." 


A    QUESTION  OF  HONOR.  337 

Mr.  MacAllan  smiled  incredulously.  He  did  not 
believe  that  she  could  much  enjoy  anything  away  from 
him.  "  I  have  my  own  opinion  about  that,"  he  said. 

"Of  course  being  engaged"  — 

tk  Engaged !     Who  says  they  're  engaged?" 

"  Why,  I  learned  that  the  first  time  I  ever  saw  them. 
I  had  it  from  friends  who  know  them  intimately." 

44  They  are  no  more  engaged  than  we  are  !  " 

44  I  am  glad  to  find  that  you  think  so,  Mr.  MacAllan  ; 
but  you  are  certainly  mistaken.  I  have  the  most  posi- 
tive proof  of  it,  including  the  evidence  of  my  own 
eyes  and  ears." 

"  I  could  n't  believe  it  upon  any  evidence."         , 

44  It  is  true,  nevertheless." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  saying  you  are  glad  I  think 
to  the  contrary?  " 

41 1  mean  that  you  have  paid  her  attentions  which  no 
gentleman  would  offer  to  a  lady  whom  he  knew  to  be 
betrothed  to  another  man." 

44 1  have  paid  her  no  attentions  which  she  has  not 
accepted  in  a  manner  impossible  to  a  woman  like  her, 
were  she  engaged." 

44  Mr.  MacAllan,  let  me  be  plain  with  you.  She 
generously  believed  in  you  and  took  your  part  when  a 
good  many  people  thought  ill  of  you.  Don't  miscon- 
strue her  friendliness  or  requite  it  with  treachery." 

Mr.  MacAllau  had  in  his  temper  a  spark  of  tropical 


338  THE  ROCEANOCK  STAGE. 

beat,  and  when  angry  was  apt  to  speak  imprudently. 
He  was  angry  now.  "  I  tell  you,"  he  said  fiercely, 
stamping  his  foot  and  striking  his  fist  upon  his  knee, 
"  she  is  as  good  as  engaged  to  me!" 

He  regretted  the  words  as  soon  as  they  were 
spoken,  and  was  instantly  sobered  by  fear  of  their 
consequences. 

"Mr.  Austin,"  he  said,  returning  to  his  customary 
suavity,  "pardon  my  vehemence.  It  is  not  auger, 
but  only  emphasis.  You  are  my  pastor  and  Miss 
Darling's,  and  we  may  safely  make  you  our  confidant 
and  counselor.  You  have  been  plain  with  me  ;  I  will 
be  frank  with  you.  I  love  Miss  Darling  and  have 
made  no  secret  of  my  sentiments.  She  has  met  my 
advances  with  more  than  kindness.  I  need  not  recite 
in  detail  what  has  passed  between  us.  It  is  not  a 
formal  engagement,  but  she  understands  me,  and  I 
understand  her.  Now  tell  me  if  you  think  her  capa- 
ble of  acting  such  a  part  when  she  was  engaged  to 
another  man." 

"  I  believe  her  capable  of  acting  a  friendly  and 
generous  part  toward  a  man  in  trouble ;  and  I  believe 
a  man  in  love  with  her  capable  of  putting  upon  her 
innocent  conduct  a  construction  of  which  she  never 
dreamed." 

"  Well,  I  see  no  use  in  continuing  the  subject.  We 
are  not  likely  to  agree  about  it." 


A   QUESTION  OF  HONOR.  339 

"  I  fear  not." 

"  Of  course  you  will  regard  what  I  have  said  to  you 
as  strictly  confidential." 

"  I  shall  make  no  dishonorable  use  of  it,"  said  the 
minister  with  dignity. 

"  You  have  no  right  to  make  any  use  of  it  what- 
ever," retorted  Mat-Allan  ;  adding  in  a  more  concilia- 
tory tone,  "  You  are,  I  know,  a  man  of  honor,  and  I 
trust  you  implicitly.  Otherwise  I  should  not  have 
spoken  so  freely  with  you  on  a  subject  of  this  nature." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  act  like  a  man  of  honor  toward 
Miss  Darling  and  Major  Gibson?" 

Mr.  Mat-Allan  drew  himself  up.  "  I  have  never 
given  you  or  any  other  man  occasion  to  question  my 
sense  of  honor,  sir." 

"If  it  were  proved  to  you  beyond  doubt  that  she  is 
engaged,  what  would  your  sense  of  honor  require 
of  you?" 

'•  That  I  should  do  what  w:is  most  for  her  happiness 
in  the  long  run." 

••  Wliieh  means,  I  suppose,  that  you  would  persuade 
her  to  break  the  engagement  if  you  could." 

"  It  will  be  time  enough  to  decide  that  point,  Mr. 
Austin,  when  the  proofs  to  which  you  refer  are 
forthcoming." 

Mr.  Austin  w;is  strongly  inclined  to  produce  them: 
the  statements  of  Mrs.  Transington  ;  the  passages  r*t 


310  THE  ItOCKAXOCK  STAGE. 

affection  between  the  major  and  his  ward ;  even  the 
scene  in  the  parlor.  Why  not?  They  had  not  been 
annoyed  by  its  publicity  ;  and  surely  it  must  be  re- 
garded as  decisive.  Yet  of  what  avail  would  it  be 
with  a  man  infatuated  and  unscrupulous?  He  had 
declared  that  he  would  not  be  convinced  ;  and  if  he 
were,  what  reason  was  there  for  expecting  him  to 
desist  from  his  purpose? 

Mr.  MacAllan  took  the  minister's  silence  as  a  sign 
of  discomfiture,  and  improved  the  opportunity  to  with- 
draw. "  Mr.  Austin,"  said  he  in  his  blandest  style, 
"  I  have  trespassed  too  long  upon  your  valuable  time. 
You  are  my  pastor  and  my  friend.  I  know  that  what 
I  have  said  to  you  in  confidence  will  be  safe  in  your 
keeping,  and  that  you  will  act  a  friend's  part  toward 
me." 

"I  shall  do  so,"  said  the  minister,  "by  opposing 
your  present  course  to  the  full  extent  of  my  power." 

Mr.  MacAllan  was  evidently  startled  at  this,  and 
would  have  renewed  the  argument  with  fresh  earnest- 
ness, but  the  minister  sternly  cut  him  short.  "It  is 
idle  to  talk  longer  about  it.  You  have  declared  your 
position,  and  I  have  declared  rmne.  We  shall  get  no 
nearer  together  by  discussion.  Let  it  end  where  it  is." 

There  was  nothing  left  Mr.  MacAllan  but  to  retire, 
which  he  did  in  the  blackest  ill- humor.  "So  we  are 
enemies,  Mr.  Parson?"  he  muttered  as  he  reached  his 


A    QUESTION  OF  HONOR.  311 

own  room.  "  Well  and  good.  If  you  can  stand  it,  I 
can."  He  was  only  annoyed  that  his  hope  of  winning 
the  minister's  alliance  had  led  him  to  commit  himself 
so  freely  concerning  the  state  of  his  affections.  Other- 
wise he  did  not  regret  the  interview.  It  had  brought 
to  his  attention  a  matter  which  he  ought  to  investi- 
gate. Was  Lucy  really  engaged  to  her  guardian? 
Very  likely.  She  was  fond  of  him,  and  had  been 
wont  to  accede  to  his  wishes,  aud  if  he  asked  her  to 
marry  him,  would  probably  consent.  Nothing  more 
natural. 

"  But  that  was  before  she  saw  me,"  said  Mac  Allan, 
looking  complacently  at  himself  iu  the  mirror.  "  I 
came,  1  saw,  I  conquered.  Then  she  found  that  she 
had  a  heart  and  that  she  had  lost  it.  Poor  major !  we 
must  make  it  as  easy  for  him  as  we  can,  but  we  can't 
break  our  two  young  hearts  to  spare  one  old  one. 
He  's  having  his  hist  trip  with  her,  and  it  will  do  him 
more  harm  than  good.  She  will  see  the  difference 
between  his  society  and  mine.  This  little  separation 
will  show  her  that  she  can't  live  without  me.  When 
she  comes  back  she  will  be  in  just  the  mood  to  hear 
what  I  have  to  say  to  her.  And  I  shall  not  be  long  in 
saying  it  either.  This  thing  must  be  all  settled  and 
understood  without  delay.  Then  she  will  tell  the 
major  frankly  how  it  stands  ;  and  he  will  answer  that 
he  only  wants  her  to  be  happy,  and  will  release  her 


342  THE  ROCKANOCK  STAGE. 

from  her  promise,  and  give  her  his  blessing  and  an 
extra  thousand  dollars  for  her  trousseau." 

This  glimpse  of  the  happy  future  was  marred  by  no 
misgivings  as  to  the  propriety  of  the  course  proposed. 
The  promise  of  an  inexperienced  girl  to  an  old  fellow 
who  had  taken  advantage  of  her  filial  regard  for  him 
to  beguile  her  into  a  marriage  engagement  had  in  Mr. 
Mac-Allan's  eyes  no  sacredness  whatever.  He  even 
persuaded  himself  that  he  was  doing  the  major  himself 
a  kindness  in  preventing  him  from  consummating  so 
unsuitable  a  match. 

From  the  minister  he  feared  nothing.  On  reflection 
he  preferred  to  have  his  opposition.  Lucy  had  been 
strongly  influenced  by  this  limping  pietist.  Now  she 
would  detest  him  ;  for  he  not  only  opposed  her  lover, 
but  denounced  their  most  sacred  affections  as  treachery 
and  sin. 

Being  on  terras  of  declared  hostility  to  the  minister, 
Mr.  MacAllan  could,  of  course,  no  longer  play  the 
once  convenient  part  of  right-hand  man.  He  would 
leave  the  choir  at  once.  This  would,  he  felt  sure, 
annoy  the  minister,  make  a  sensation  in  the  congrega- 
tion, remind  people  of  the  value  of  his  services,  and 
make  him  more  of  a  hero  than  ever  in  the  eyes  of 
Miss  Darling.  Perhaps  she  would  resign  also. 

Accordingly,  Mr.  Austin  received  through  the  mail 
the  next  day  the  following  curt  note  :  — 


A    QUESTION  OF  HONOR.  343 

ROCKBY,  September  16,  1871. 
RKV.  DUDLEY  AUSTIN  : 

Sir,  —  For  obvious  reasons  it  is  no  longer  proper 
for  me  to  retain  a  position  in  the  church  choir.  I 
return  herewith  the  list  of  hymns,  for  which  I  have  no 
further  use.  Yours,  etc., 

ALLAN  MACALLAN. 

Mr.  Austin  read  the  note  in  the  office,  and  turning 
it  over,  wrote  with  his  pencil  upon  the  buck  :  — 

Mu.  ALLAN  MACALLAN  : 

I>"<ir  Sir,  —  I  approve  your  decision.  My  reasons 
for  it  are  probably  different  from  yours,  but  equally 
obvious  and  conclusive.  I  hope  you  may  yet,  upon 
wiser  reflection,  remove  them  in  the  only  way  possible 
—  by  changing  your  course  of  conduct.  When  you 
have  done  so,  I  shall  take  pleasure  in  again  sub- 
scribing myself,  Respectfully  yours, 

DUDLEY  AUSTIN. 

Taking  out  an  envelope,  he  addressed  it,  enclosed 
and  mailed  the  note,  and  went  to  confer  with  the 
chairman  of  the  Music  Committee.  Of  course  he 
could  not  state  the  "  obvious  reasons,"  either  the 
chorister's  or  his  own,  to  which  the  correspondence 
had  referred.  Nor  were  they  inquired  for. 

"Well!  well!"  said  the  committeeinim,  "  lln-se 
singers  are  awful  freaky,  aren't  they?  But  I  guess 


314  THE  11OUKANOCK  STAGE. 

we  can  manage  to  keep  up  public  worship  without 
him." 

A  few  regarded  the  loss  of  the  tenor  as  a  great 
calamity,  and  learning  that  it  was  somehow  due  to 
Mr.  Austin's  interference,  expressed  the  opinion  that 
the  minister  had  better  attend  to  his  own  affairs.  The 
majority,  being  believers  in  the  Tumbleville  view  of 
Mr.  MacAllan's  character,  thought  it  high  time  the 
choir  was  rid  of  him.  On  the  whole  the  resignation 
did  not  prove  so  great  a  sensation  as  he  had  antici- 
pated. 

"  I  guess,"  remarked  the  doctor  dryly,  "  there  is 
rather  more  resignation  on  our  side  than  on  his." 

Lezer  put  the  case  under  examination  in  his  own 
peculiar  way.  "So  you've  throwed  up  your  sittoo- 
washun,  have  ye,  kunnle?" 

"  I've  left  the  choir." 

"Throat's  giviu'  out,  I  s'pose.  Thought  ye 
seemed  ter  kinder  hoarse  up  lately  more  'n  what  yer 
yuseter." 

"  No.  I  have  n't ;  my  throat  never  was  better." 

"  Prob'bly  ye  got  tired  of  it." 

"Yes;  I  did." 

"Awful  hard  work,  I  tell  ye,  singin'  week  after 
week  what  ye  don't  feel  nor  mean  nor  care  nothin' 
about.  It 's  jest  a  dead  lift  all  the  time.  Folks  that 
hes  feelin's  an'  ken  sing  with  the  sperrit  an'  the  under- 


A    QUESTION  OF  HONOR.  345 

standin'  don't  know  nothin'  about  it.  Sometimes, 
when  I  've  heerd  ye  singin'  so  kinder  pious  like,  that 
ye  wuz  glad  when  they  told  ye  to  come  along  up  ter 
the  house  o'  the  Lord,  and  that  them  that  wushup  him 
must  wushup  him  in  sperrit  an'  in  truth,  I  jest  pitied 
ye ;  fer  I  remembered  what  ye  told  me  that  time  about 
not  meauin'  a  word  ye  said." 

"You  needn't  waste  any  sympathy  on  me,"  said 
the  chorister.  "  My  resignation  has  nothing  to  do 
with  any  such  consideration ;  it  is  purely  a  personal 
matter." 

"Oh,  I  see!  I  hecrd  one  o'  the  deacons  say 
somethin'  about  a  (lare-up,  but  I  did  n't  know  what  he 
meant.  '  Musical  folks  is  so  techy,'  sez  he,  '  they  's 
no  livin'  with  'em.'  " 

"  It  was  n't  me  that  was  touchy  this  time." 

"  Oh,  no,  no!  I  understand  that.  I  know  who  you 
refer  to,  kunnle,  and  I  ain't  surprised  neither,  not  a 
bit ;  I  've  be'n  a-lookiu'  for  it  ever  sense  ye  fust 
begun  to  sing  with  her.  I  kuowed  ye  'd  be  a-fallin' 
out  with  her  sooner  or  later.  Yer  so  onlike,  ye  see." 

"Who  are?" 

"  You  an'  Miss  Darlin'.  You  're  all  musical  science, 
yo'  see,  an'  she's  all  sperrit  an'  truth." 

"  What  are  you  talking  about?  I  've  made  no  allu- 
sion to  her.  We  have  n't  quarreled." 

'•Haven't!     Wall,  I'm   glad   on 't.     'Cause,  if    a 


346  THE  110GKANOCK  STAGE. 

feller  should  quar'l  with  her  he  'd  hev  ter  quar'l  with 
the  major ;  an'  the  major,  he  's  one  o'  these  milit'ry 
men  't  would  take  it  right  up." 

"  I  am  in  no  danger  of  offending  either  of  them ; 
I  am  on  the  best  of  terms  with  them  both." 

"Bully  fer  you!  Won't  they  make  a  nice  couple, 
though?" 

"  Couple  of  what?" 

"Why,  a  married  couple,  you  know.  Have  ye 
bee rd  when  the  weddin"s  goin'  ter  be?" 

"Wedding!" 

"Folks  sez  it's  goin'  ter  be  this  fall,  sure,  an' 
mebby  next  week  ;  I  dunno.  Prob'bly  they  're  buyin' 
the'r  weddin'  outfit  now.  I  overheerd  some  things  in 
the  stage.  They  wuz  all  alone,  fust  along ;  and  that 
'ere  stage  is  an  awful  thing  to  leak  sounds." 

"What  did  you  hear?"  asked  MacAllan  confiden- 
tially, hoping  to  draw  some  important  revelation  from 
this  irrepressible  gossip. 

Lezer  closed  one  eye  and  regarded  his  questioner 
through  the  other  with  a  quizzical  smile.  "That, 
kunnle,"  said  he,  "  is  jest  what  I  don't  feel  at  libbutty 
to  tell." 


CHAPTER   XXVI. 

DUSTPAN    PHILOSOPHY. 

~T  ITTLE  Grim  was  about  his  morning  tasks. 
-»— ^  Here  :ind  there, -up  tliis  stairway  and  clown  that, 
through  the  broken  labyrinths  of  halls  and  passages, 
now  on  one  floor,  now  on  another,  broom  and  dustpan 
in  hand,  he  kept  up  the  relentless  pursuit  after  the 
dust  and  rubbish,  which  vanished  before  him  only  to 
fall  afresh  in  his  rear. 

The  somber  mask  was  upon  his  face.  Never  had 
the  low,  flat  forehead  been  more  wrinkled.  Never  had 
the  lines  of  the  small  eyes  and  enormous  mouth  ex- 
pressed more  sadness.  His  very  step  was  melancholy. 
Indeed,  it  was  less  a  step  than  a  crawl  —  a  slow, 
clumsy,  sidling  motion,  with  a  twist  and  an  all-over 
wriggle,  like  a  meditative  crab  exploring  a  new  bit  of 
sea  floor.  4, 

He  had  crept  thus  through  the  upper  halls  and  down 
the  LaSalle  Street  stair,  and  was  stooping  to  pick  up 
a  peach  stone  from  the  lower  landing,  when  he  heard 
the  brisk  clattering  steps  of  halting  horses,  and  a  voice 
said,  "  Oh,  there  is  Grim  !  Good  morning,  Grim  !  " 

The  angel  had  come  again  !     How  that  voice  warmed 

347 


348  THE  ROCKANOCK  STAGE. 

his  old  heart !  Dropping  dustpan  and  broom,  he 
scrambled  down  the  outer  steps  and  across  the  side- 
walk. The  somber  mask  was  gone.  Not  the  fairest 
face  iu  the  world  could  express  more  intense  delight 
than  glowed  in  the  little,  twinkling  eyes  and  the  gro- 
tesque mouth. 

"  Why,  Grim,  you  seem  glad  to  see  us  !  "  said  the 
major,  climbing  heavily  down  and  giving  the  grimy 
hand  a  shake.  Lucy  leaned  over  and  extended  her 
own,  delicately  gloved,  laughing  to  see  how  gingerly 
the  awkward  fellow  touched  it. 

"It  is  very  flattering,"  she  said,  "  to  be  so  heartily 
welcomed." 

Poor  Grim  had  no  means  of  expressing  his  pleasure. 
If  he  could  only  dance,  or  stand  on  his  head  !  "You 
are  more  beautiful  than  ever  !  "  he  exclaimed. 

"  Which  of  us?"  demanded  the  major. 

"Oh,  the  lady,  of  course,"  replied  the  ingenuous 
dwarf. 

Lucy  blushed  and  said  that  it  was  worth  a  journey 
to  Chicago  to  get  such  a  compliment.  The  major  de- 
clared that  the  speech  should  cost  Grim  his  head. 

The  janitor  was  again  left  in  charge  of  Lucy  and 
the  horses,  while  the  landlord  visited  his  lawyers  and 
took  a  look  about  the  block.  Lucy  took  care  that  the 
somber  mask  should  not  again  be  put  on.  She  asked 
Grim  questions  about  his  work  and  his  life,  and  drew 


DUSTPAX  PHILOSOPHY.  349 

him  on  from  topic  to  topic,  curious  to  see  whether  his 
mind  were  as  misshapen  as  his  body. 

She  found  him  quite  a  philosopher  in  his  way,  though 
the  range  of  his  thinking  did  not  extend  much  beyond 
the  limits  of  the  little  five-story-aud-basement  world 
in  which  he  lived. 

"  I  dunno  much  about  the  city,"  he  said  in  reply  to 
some  inquiry  from  her.  "It's  big,  and  it's  noisy, 
and  it 's  full  of  people  rushing  here  and  there.  I 
dunno  what  it's  all  about.  Do  I  like  to  be  in  it? 
Yes.  lady,  sometimes.  I  come  out  here,  and  stand 
and  hark  to  the  noise  of  it,  and  it's  like  the  sound  of 
a  cataract  or  a  great  rolling  sea.  Then  again,  I  can't 
bear  it.  The  awful  grind  and  roar  of  it  crazes  me, 
and  I  run  to  my  den  and  put  my  hands  over  my  ears, 
and  wish  and  wish  't  would  only  stop  just  for  an  hour. 
What  a  sweet  thing  silence  is,  lady  !  " 

"  Yes,  if  one  could  have  it  at  will,  and  not  all  the 
time.  It  would  soon  be  harder  to  bear  than  noise, 
I  imagine." 

"Oh,  much,  much  harder,  lady!  At  night  I'm 
shut  up  in  a  little  sorter  four-square  world  of  it,  all  by 
myself.  And  when  I  lay  awake  in  the  dark,  and  the 
pains  are  in  my  back,  and  the  great  block  is  so  empty 
and  so  still,  then  the  silence  is  cruel !  " 

Lucy  shuddered  at  the  mention  of  it. 

"  Yet  that,  you  see,  ain't  real  silence  neither,"  said 


350  THE  EOCKANOCK  STAGE. 

Grim.  "There  's  the  rats  gnawing,  and  the  windows 
rattling,  and  the  boards  snapping,  and  sometimes  the 
water  drumming  in  the  rain  spouts." 

Lucy  made  a  grimace  to  match  the  suggestion. 
"Then  you  like  the  busy  working  hours  better?" 

"  Oh,  much  better,  lady.  yes.  The  night  is  so  long, 
and  lying  down  is  so  hard  !  What  with  the  whirling 
of  your  head,  and  the  turning  and  twisting  about  — 
when  you  're  awake  the  pains  is  awful,  and  when 
you 're  asleep  the  dreams  is  worse.  And  then  —  oh, 
don't  look  that  way,  lady  !  You  looked  that  way  the 
other  time,  and  it  made  me  cry." 

"•  You  will  make  me  cry,"  said  Lucy,  "  if  you  tell 
me  such  dreadful  things.  I  'in  afraid  I  shall  never 
enjoy  my  sleep  again,  when  I  remember  that  you  are 
suffering  so." 

Grim  gazed  at  her  in  a  puzzled  way.  "  Do  you 
enjoy  it?" 

"Sleep?  It  is  a  perfect  luxury,  especially  when 
one  is  exactly  tired  enough,  and  not  too  tired.  It  is 
so  delicious  just  to  lie  down  ;  and  you  feel  so  grateful 
for  it !  " 

Lucy  checked  herself.  It  was  thoughtless  to  aggra- 
vate poor  Grim  with  .allusions  to  luxuries  which  were 
denied  him.  But  he  was  listening  with  unmistakable 
delight,  and  his  eager  face  besought  her  to  go  on. 
"First,"  she  continued,  "comes  —  let  me  see  —  a 


DUSTPAX  PHILOSOPHY.  351 

little,  pleasaut,  indolent  thinking,  with  your  eyes  wide 
open  to  the  dark.  Then  your  eyes  droop  —  and 
droop  —  and  droop,  till  they  shut  altogether;  and 
your  thoughts  seem  to  droop,  too,  till  they  grow  too 
drowsy  to  stir ;  and  you  just  lie,  breathing  in,  breath 
by  breath,  an  atmosphere  which  steeps  you  in  sweet 
intoxication.  Then  you  lose  all  consciousness  of  your 
body  and  go  drifting  along  the  borders  of  sleep,  in 
and  out,  in  and  out,  with  such  fantastic  little  dream 
pictures  coming  and  going  —  just  a  flash  and  away! 
Then  seven  hours  of  unconsciousness,  of  the  sort 
commonly  called  blissful.  Then  the  dream  pictures 
again,  clearer  and  more  lasting  than  before,  and  with 
longer  intervals  of  sleep  between.  Then  the  blessed 
coming  to  one's  self ;  the  new  thrill  of  life ;  the 
opening  of  every  sense  and  pore  to  the  bright,  sweet 
world." 

(iiiin  listened  to  this  rhapsody  on  sleep  as  to  a 
fascinating  romance.  He  did  not  break  out  into 
lamentation  that  such  a  blessing  was  withheld  from 
him.  lie  did  not  even  wish  for  it,  any  more  than  Le 
wished  for  the  moon.  He  could  not  imagine  himself 
passing  through  such  an  experience.  "That  is  won- 
derful!"  he  said.  "I  should  like  to  see  it.  Once 
at  a  circus  over  on  the  lake  front  they  had  what  they 
called  '  the  Sleeping  Beauty.'  It  was  in  a  side  show, 
and  you  paid  two  shillings  extra  to  go  in.  But  this 


352  TUK 


is  twenty  times  as  good  ;  the  thinking,  and  the  eyes 
drooping,  and  the  drifting,  and  the  dream  pictures  — 
I  should  love  to  see  it,  lady;  I'd  give  a  month's 
wages  to  see  it.  Talk  about  sleeping  beauties  !  " 

A  child's  dream  of  an  angel  could  not  have  been 
more  innocent.  Indeed,  Grim  was  but  a  child  in 
feeling,  —  an  old,  sad,  preternatural  child,  —  and  Luc\r 
was  every  whit  angelic  in  his  eyes. 

Yet  something  made  the  angel's  cheeks  a  lovelier 
red,  and  she  turned  the  conversation  from  herself  to 
him  again.  "  But  you  are  not  as  lazy  as  I.  You 
think  work  better  than  sleep." 

'•  Oh,  yes,  lady,  far  better.  And  I  have  such  nice 
work,  too  !  " 

She  thought  he  spoke  ironically.  "  Nice  !  I  am 
glad  you  enjoy  it." 

"  Why  not?  Is  n't  it  good  to  be  set  to  keep  some 
part  of  the  world  clean?  " 

"  Certainly  it  is.  I  never  thought  of  it  in  that 
way." 

"  The  men,  you  see,  raise  so  much  dust,  and  scatter 
so  much  litter  about  'em,  and  never  think  of  turning 
to  pick  up  a  scrap  or  a  speck.  You  would  n't  believe 
the  heaps  and  heaps  of  it  I  get  every  day.  "NVhat  if 
it  all  was  let  lie?" 

"  Then  the  men  would  be  buried  in  dust  and  rubbish 
of  their  own  making." 


DUSTPAN   PHILOSOPHY.  353 

u  No,  lady  ;  I  have  thought  of  that,  too.  The  men 
would  n't  be  buried  ;  for,  you  see,  no  man  would  lay 
down  and  let  apple  cores  and  dirt  be  throwed  over 
him.  But  the  city  'd  be  buried.  I've  read  about 
great  cities  in  other  countries  where  the  dust  and 
garbage  was  left  to  gather,  till  the  streets  was  full  to 
the  tops  of  the  houses,  and  new  houses  had  to  be 
built  over  'em  again." 

"  And  all  for  the  want  of  good  janitors.  Let 
Chicago  take  warning!" 

"  So  I  say,  lady.  What  if  some  day  the  carts  were 
running  thirty  feet  above  where  \ve  are?" 

'•  Dreadful  !  Are  n't  you  afraid  the  lower  strata  are 
forming  already  while  you  idle  here  with  me?  " 

"Ah,  no!  I  shall  easily  overtake  my  work.  We 
are  n't  in  the  busy  season  now." 

"  Do  you  have  seasons,  then?" 

"Yes,  lady;  it's  up  and  down  with  us;  some 
things  is  eveiier  than  others.  Cigar  stumps  last  the 
year  round.  Peanut  shells  fall  off  a  little  in  the  fruit 
season.  Apple  cores,  in  all,  eight  or  nine  months. 
Orange  peel  less.  Banana  skins  less  still.  Pears,  say 
three  months,  and  with  a  very  small  core.  Peach 
stones  not  more  'n  two ;  grape  skins  the  same.  Dust 
depends  on  the  weather  ;  so  does  mud.  Just  now  it  'a 
between  hay  and  grass  with  us,  as  you  may  say." 

Tliis  lesson  in  janitorial  science  was  interrupted  by 


354  THE  ROCKANOCK  STAGE. 

the  return  of  the  major,  who  dismissed  Grim  with  a 
jest  and  a  half-dollar.  The  janitor  accepted  the  jest 
as  a  special  favor,  but  indignantly  pitched  the  half- 
dollar  into  the  dust  barrel. 

"You  might  have  known  he  would  n't  keep  it,"  said 
Lucy  as  they  drove  away,  "  the  proud  philosopher 
that  he  is  !  And  now  the  ragpickers  or  the  scavengers 
will  get  it." 

"Small  fear  of  that,"  replied  the  major,  "But 
stop.  I  must  go  back  again,  now.  I  want  to  make 
an  appointment  with  this  same  philosopher."  They 
had  turned  the  corner,  and  were  out  of  sight  of  the 
block.  The  major  pulled  the  horses  about  and  drove 
hastily  back.  They  reached  the  corner  in  time  to  see 
Grim  withdraw  his  arm  from  the  barrel  and  blow  the 
dust  from  something  bright  which  he  held  in  his 
hand. 

Lucy  turned  away  her  head  to  give  him  time  to  put 
it  in  his  pocket.  He  did  nothing  of  the  sort,  but  came 
forward,  holding  the  coin  between  his  thumb  and  finger 
and  polishing  it  on  his  jacket.  "  Second  thoughts  is 
best,  lady,"  he  said  with  a  smile  ;  then  turning  to  the 
major,  "  Was  there  something  wanted,  sir?" 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  landlord.  "  I  am  coming  over 
this  afternoon  on  purpose  to  talk  with  you,  Grim." 

"All  right,  sir,"  said  Grim  with  high  appreciation 
of  the  honor. 


DUST  PAX  PHILOSOPHY.  355 

"Be  at  this  entrance  at  four  o'clock  sharp.  Under- 
stand ?  " 

"  Four  o'clock  sharp.  All  right  again,"  said  the 
dwarf,  feeling  the  precision  of  the  appointment  a  mark 
of  special  honor. 

"  And  mind  you  come  prepared  to  have  your  old 
head  chopped  off.  Understand  that?" 

"Oil,  yes,  yes;  much  obleeged  to  you,"  chuckled 
the  dwarf,  more  elated  still.  "  I  '11  have  the  axe  good  V 
sharp  ;  or  inebby  you  'd  rather  fetch  your  sword  along, 
sir." 

'•  Fie  !  fie  !  "  cried  Lucy.  "  What  barbarity  is  this? 
There  shall  be  no  beheading  without  my  consent. 
Understand  thatt" 

"  We  shall  see,"  said  the  major  mysteriously,  "we 
shall  see." 

As  they  drove  away,  Lucy  turned  with  a  parting 
smile  and  a  little  nod  toward  Grim. 

He  made  a  block  of  his  fist,  laid  his  neck  upon  it, 
and  with  the  other  hand  feigned  to  chop  off  his  head 
and  drop  it  into  the  gutter.  With  pride  and  exultation 
he  returned  to  his  dustpan  and  broom.  The  major  had 
jcMrd  with  him,  and  the  beautiful  lady  had  smiled 
upon  him  !  But  what  did  this  afternoon  meeting  with 
the  major  mean?  that  was  the  question. 

Four  o'clock  was  long  in  coming,  but  arrived  at 
length,  bringing  a  rusty  hack,  out  of  which  stepped 
the  major. 


350  THE  ROCKAXOCK  STAGE. 

"Ah,  Grim!  here  you  are,  and  here  am  I.  Good 
enough.  Let  us  go  look  at  the  furnaces." 

Grim  led  the  way  to  the  basement.  "  Careful  sir," 
said  he  as  they  descended  the  stair,  "it's  rather  dark 
for  one  that  ain't  used  to  it." 

At  the  foot  of  the  stair  they  turned  into  a  narrow 
passage  between  the  coal  bins  and  the  furnace  room. 
A  gas  jet  was  burning  low  —  a  tiny  cone  of  blue  flame 
with  a  bright  dot  at  its  center.  Grim  turned  up  the 
jet,  and  with  his  broom  brushed  away  the  summer 
cobwebs  from  the  furnace-room  door,  preparatory  to 
opening  it  for  the  landlord.  Nearly  opposite  was  an- 
other door,  free  from  cobwebs,  and  a  good  deal  be- 
grimed about  the  latch.  "What's  in  here?"  asked 
the  major. 

"  There  ?    That 's  my  den,  sir.    I  s'posed  you  knew." 

"  Let's  go  in." 

The  room  was  long  and  narrow.  "Within  it  were  a 
cot  bed,  unmade,  a  rickety  table,  a  broken  chair,  a  box 
or  two,  and  sundry  implements  of  Grim's  art.  The 
walls  were  ornamented  with  newspaper  cuts  and  old 
clothes.  At  the  farther  end  was  a  window,  opening 
upon  a  back  alley  and  protected  by  an  iron  grating. 
The  sash  was  open,  but  the  air  was  close  and  cellarous 
and  pervaded  with  such  unsavory  odor  as  suggested, 
among  other  things,  musty  bedding  and  fried  bacon. 

"Do  you  sleep  in  such  a  hole  as  this,  Grim?"  said 


DUSTPAN  rniLosoniY.  357 

the  major,  with  lip  and  nose  eloquent  of  disgust. 
''This  won't  do  at  all,  old  fellow;  you  shall  have  a 
place  upstairs." 

'*  Oh,  my,  DO  !  "  Grim  ejaculated.  "  I  like  this  tip- 
top. It 's  ever  so  much  the  best  room  I  ever  had  in 
in  Y  life.  Upstairs  would  n't  do  at  all.  Here 's  a  light, 
sir,"  he  said,  striking  a  match,  as  he  saw  the  major 
draw  forth  his  cigar  case.  He  was  impatient  to  bring 
his  master  to  business,  and  this  discussion  of  his  per- 
sonal comfort  was  a  waste  of  time. 

The  major  lit  his  cigar,  as  the  readiest  way  of  mak- 
ing the  place  tolerable,  and  having  thus  neutralized  a 
bad  smell  with  a  worse  one,  after  the  usual  method 
of  sanitarians,  sjit  down  on  a  stout  chest,  the  chair  being 
evidently  unequal  to  the  task  of  sustaining  his  weight. 

"  Grim,"  he  began,  "  I  'in  going  to  make  a  detective 
of  you." 

"Oh,  ray,  sir!"  said  Grim. 

"  Yes,  I  am.  There 's  a  conspiracy  on  foot  to  beat 
a  lot  of  honest,  hard-working  farmers  out  of  their 
homes  and  all  they're  worth." 

Grim  looked  interested  but  not  surprised. 

44  And  I  propose  to  smoke  'em  out,  Grim." 

4  4  Not  the  farmers  ?  " 

44  No,  no  !  the  land  pirates." 

44  That  '11  be  jolly,"  said  Grim. 

44  And  you  've  got  to  help  me  do  it,  you  old  rascal !  " 


358  THE  KOCKAXOCK  STAGE. 

"  That  '11  be  more  jollier  yet,"  said  Grim,  delighted 
with  the  epithet  and  with  the  prospect  of  congenial 
employment.  "  We  'II  smoke  'em  !  Where  are  they 
at?" 

"  That 's  the  very  point.     Where  do  you  think?" 

The  little  eyes  twinkled  their  merriest,  and  the 
great  mouth  stretched  its  widest,  as  Grim  replied : 
"In  No.  43!" 

The  major  started  to  his  feet  and  seized  the  grin- 
ning creature  by  the  shoulder.  "  You  on  to  them 
already,  you  cunning  scoundrel?" 

"  Three  —  four  months  ago,"  laughed  Grim. 

"  Tell  me  all  you  know  about  it." 

Grim  pulled  aside  the  chest  from  which  the  major 
had  risen,  lifted  a  board  from  the  floor,  and  drew 
forth  sundry  odd-looking  scraps  of  paper.  There  was 
the  letter  with  whose  history  the  reader  is  already 
acquainted,  and  also  several  other  similar  specimens 
of  literary  patchwork  of  varying  length  and  intelligi- 
bility ;  and  there  was  a  mass  of  unassorted  fragments, 
apparently  sufficient  to  occupy  the  magician's  leisure 
hours  for  the  remainder  of  his  life. 

He  piled  the  fragments  upon  the  table  and  handed 
the  patchwork  to  his  master.  "  Set  down,  sir,"  said 
he,  "  and  examine  them  dockymunts,  and  I  '11  give 
you  the  natteral  history  of  'em  from  beginning  to 
end." 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

• 

AN    ODD    DETECTIVE. 

RIM  had  never  receded  from  the  opinion  that 
something  deep  was  going  on,  nor  from  his 
determination  to  get  to  the  bottom  of  it.  Moreover, 
being  satisfied  that,  whatever  it  was,  it  had  reference 
to  the  affairs  of  Major  Gibson  and  his  ward,  he  felt 
himself  under  moral  and  official  obligation  to  investi- 
gate it.  His  position  as  custodian  of  his  master's 
property,  and  as  an  acknowledged  devotee  of  the 
beautiful  lady,  justified  him,  he  believed,  in  a  system 
of  espionage  commonly  regarded  as  dishonorable. 
He  often  contrived  to  be  in  his  private  box,  in  43 
Junior,  behind  the  second  best  crack  in  the  partition 
door,  when  Pack  and  Krauntz  were  in  consultation. 
When  he  emptied  Pack's  wash-  basket,  he  searched  its 
contents  carefully  for  further  shreds  of  evidence,  and 
pasted  together  many  a  torn  letter  in  the  secrecy  of 
his  den. 

His  progress  was  slow.  The  conversations  which 
he  overheard  related  chit-fly  to  loans,  notes,  den  Is, 
titles,  commissions,  etc.  Now  and  then  there  was  an 
allusion,  with  or  without  names,  that  seemed  to  lack 

359 


360  THE  ROCKANOCK  STAGE. 

only  a  syllable  or  two  of  being  intelligible,  but  of 
which,  in  default  of  that  clew,  he  could  make  nothing. 
The  more  important  letters  between  MacAllan  and 
Pack  were  evidently  not  committed  to  the  waste  bas- 
ket, but  occasionally  one  found  its  way  there  contain- 
ing references  not  to  be  mistaken. 

It  was  the  rneageriiess  of  these  discoveries  and  the 
seeming  worthlessness  of  most  of  them  that  had  pre- 
vented Grim  from  communicating  them  to  the  major. 
He  continually  hoped  for  better  success.  He  wanted 
to  put  into  his  master's  hands  a  complete  and  unequiv- 
ocal case.  He  doubted  whether  he  would  otherwise 
be  acquitted  by  the  major  of  dishonorable  practices. 
So  far  as  he  could  yet  discover,  the  financial  schemes 
in  which  the  three  rogues  were  engaged  threatened  no 
immediate  injury  to  the  major's  interests,  and  furnished 
no  occasion  for  putting  him  on  his  guard.  Nor  did 
their  matrimonial  enterprise  seem  to  be  dangerous. 
Mr.  MacAllan  seemed  to  be  a  suitor  for  Miss  Darling's 
favor.  But  this,  so  far  from  being  a  reason  for  speak- 
ing, was  a  strong  motive  for  silence.  Grim  could  not 
conceive  of  such  a  divinity  as  she  feeling  anything  but 
contempt  for  this  "  I-talyuu  idgeot,"  as  he  called  him. 
Let  him  go  on  to  his  fate.  Let  him  make  love  to  her, 
if  he  dared.  She  would  only  laugh  and  hiss  him  out 
of  her  sight.  Of  the  contents  of  the  paper  which 
Pack  had  opened,  and  of  its  bearing  on  the  case,  Grim 


.l.V  ODD  DETECTIVE.  361 

had  no  suspicion.  All  papers  that  were  written  on 
foolscap  and  enclosed  in  long  envelopes  were  alike 
mysterious  to  him. 

NVhen,  therefore,  the  major,  listening  to  Grim's 
story,  and  examining  the  documents  to  which  it  re- 
lated, blamed  him  roundly,  first  for  eavesdropping  and 
then  for  so  long  concealing  his  discoveries,  Grim  had 
his  answer  ready.  To  the  charge  of  culpable  silence 
lie  replied  according  to  the  tenor  of  the  explanations 
just  given,  stating  them  in  his  own  dialect  and  at  much 
greater  length  than  I  have  done.  As  to  the  eaves- 
dropping, the  major  had  himself  furnished  him  an 
ample  defense. 

"  You  was  going  to  make  a  detective  out  o'  me, 
believe  ye  said." 

"Yes." 

"  Whudger  'xpect  me  to  do?" 

"  Help  me  trip  up  these  scoundrels." 

"Ilowdger  'xpect  me  to  help?" 

••  I'se  your  wits,  as  other  detectives  do." 

"And  my  eyes  and  my  ears  and  ray  fingers  and  my 
toes?" 

u  Yes,"  admitted  the  major,  seeing  the  trap  into 
which  he  was  stepping.  "  Now  you  arc  goiug  to  tell 
me  that  this  is  what  you  have  done." 

Grim  laughed. 

"  But  you  were  not  my  detective  till  I  employed  you. 
Now  what  have  you  got  to  say  for  yourself  ?  " 


362  THE  ItOCKAXOCK  STAGE. 

"  Nothing,  sir,"  answered  Grim  meekly. 

"Yes,  you  have,  you  cunning  scamp!  Why  don't 
you  say  that  I  have  accepted  the  results  of  your  eaves- 
dropping, and  propose  to  make  use  of  them  in  prose- 
cuting my  purpose?" 

"I  thought  of  that,  too,  sir,"  said  Grim  timidly. 

"  I  knew  you  did!  Well,  Grim,  we  won't  quarrel 
about  that.  You  are  my  detective ;  and  to  make  all 
right  up  to  this  point,  I  '11  date  your  commission  back 
—  say  four  mouths.  Will  that  cover  it?" 

"Better  say  from  May  first;  that'll  be  round 
figgers." 

'•May  first,  it  is,  then.  Now  what  do  you  under- 
stand the  duties  of  a  detective  to  be  ?  " 

"  Oh,  watching,  listening,  cheating,  lying,  pretend- 
ing to  be  the  friend  of  the  feller  when  you  're  his 
enemy,  worming  secrets  out  of  him  —  anything  short 
o'  murder,  for  the  sake  o'  getting  on  to  him." 

••  Not  so  fast,  old  man.  You  know  your  business 
too  well,  altogether.  The  current  detective  system  is 
legalized  immorality,  very  much  as  you  describe  it. 
But  that  is  not  the  kind  of  a  detective  I  want  you  to 
be.  A  lie  is  no  more  respectable  in  a  detective  than 
in  anybody  else  ;  and,  if  you  tell  one,  I  '11  discharge 
you.  The  man  that  will  lie  to  serve  me,  will  lie  to 
serve  my  adversary  whenever  it  is  for  his  interest  to 
do  so.  And  a  man  that  will  lie  to  serve  anv  interest 


AN  ODD  DETECTIVE.  363 

whatever  is  unfit  to  be  trusted.  No,  Grira,  I  don't 
propose  to  make  a  liar  or  a  cheat  out  of  you.  I  care 
too  much  for  you,  and  have  too  ranch  need  of  your 
staunch  honesty.  You  are  an  officer,  are  n't  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir.  I'm  reggerly  appointed  as  a  private 
watchman." 

k'Well,  then,  within  the  walls  of  this  block,  you 
are  an  officer  of  the  law,  specially  charged  to  protect 
the  interests  of  that  small  portion  of  the  public  known 
as  O.  T.  Gibson,  and  to  have  an  eye  on  any  sneak 
thieves,  burglars,  incendiaries,  or  other  criminals  that 
may  be  prowling  round.  See?" 

u  Yes,  sir  ;  jesso." 

"  Well,  then,  on  your  beat  you  find  certain  of  the 
aforesaid  '  other  criminals.'  What  is  your  duty?" 

k-  Whudder  you  say?  " 

"  I  say  it  is  your  duty  to  keep  on  their  trail ;  to 
pick  up  the  crumbs  of  rascality  they  let  fall;  to  know 
what  they  do,  and  what  they  say  ;  to  keep  the  evi- 
dence you  get  where  you  can  lay  your  hand  on  it ;  to 
study  it,  putting  this  and  that  together,  and  set  a 
^(><wl  strong  trap  to  catch  'em  in  ;  that's  what  I  say." 

"  I  say  jesso,  too,  and  I  '11  do  it,  sir!  " 

'•  Well,  then,  here's  another  thing.  When  a  man 
asks  a  detective  to  work  up  a  case  for  him,  he  tells 
him  all  he  knows  about  it,  does  n't  he?" 

"  I  guesso,  yes,  sir." 


364  THE  EOCKANOCK  STAGE. 

"  Of  course  he  does.  Now  I  want  you  to  listen 
with  all  the  ears  you  've  got.  I  am  going  to  give  you 
some  points  on  these  fellows  that  you  have  n't  struck 
yet,  shrewd  as  you  are." 

The  major  then  proceeded  to  state  the  facts  in  the 
Ottway  business,  in  the  light  of  which  it  was  easy  to 
see  the  bearing  of  certain  things  hitherto  unintelligible 
to  Grim,  in  the  conversations  and  letters  whose  frag- 
ments had  fallen  in  his  way. 

The  bearing  of  certain  other  things  upon  the  interest 
of  his  ward  were  clearer  to  his  own  mind  than  he 
cared  to  make  them  to  the  trusty  janitor.  Having 
taken  memoranda  of  the  patchwork  documents,  and 
charged  Grim  to  keep  the  originals  safe,  he  went  his 
way. 

"  I  shall  call  on  the  chief  of  police,  Grim,"  he  said, 
"and  if  he  does  not  think  you  fully  authorized  to  do 
such  work  as  you  are  undertaking,  I  shall  ask  him  to 
put  you  on  the  detective  force." 

"  That's  the  talk  !  "  said  Grim. 

The  major  rose  to  go.  "By  the  way,  Grim,  I 
noticed  a  certain  form  of  expression  which  you  used. 
You  said,  '  Where  are  they  at?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  You  were  not  born  about  here?" 

"No,  sir." 

"Where,  then?" 


ODD  DETECTIVE.  3G5 


"Maryland."  * 

"Just  what  I  thought.     Have  you  friends  there?" 

"  Got  some  cousins,  three  —  four  of  'em." 

"  Where  are  they  at?  " 

"Baltimore." 

"  Do  you  correspond  with  them?" 

"  Not  reggerly  ;  once  in  a  great  while." 

"  MacAllan  is  a  Marylander  !  " 

"So?  That's  too  bad!  I'm  awful  sorry  to  hear 
it.  I  thought  he  was  sonic  kind  o'  forriner.  A  Merry- 
lander,  is  he?  Such  an  idgeot  and  rapscallion  as  he 
to  go  and  be  born  in  good  old  Mrrryland  !  That's 
wuss  'n  all  the  rest.  But  he  a'n't  no  relation  o'  mine, 
you  don't  think?" 

"  I  hope  not.  The  family  likeness  is  not  marked. 
15u1  maybe  your  relatives  know  something  of  him,  or 
could  find  it  out  for  us.  When  you  get  hold  of  this 
fine  old  Maryland  stock,  it  is  worth  while  to  look  up 
its  antecedents,  its  pedigree,  you  know." 

"I  betcher!" 

"  Which  one  is  the  shrewdest  and  most  trustworthy 
of  your  Baltimore  cousins?" 

"  Zickil." 

"What  is  he?" 

"  Horse  jockey.  Drives  all  over  the  country. 
Knows  everybody  'n'  everything." 

"You  owe  him  a  letter,  I  think." 


365  THE  HOC'A'AXOC'K  STAGE. 

"  Land  !  how  'd  you  know  that?  "* 

"You'd  better  write  soon.  He  may  think  strange 
of  your  silence." 

"  I  will,  sir.     I  '11  write  to-night." 

u  Better  write  now,  while  you  are  in  the  rnood  for 
it.  The  apple  cores  can  wait  for  an  hour." 

"Jesh  shu  say,  sir." 

The  major  left  Grim  to  perform  this  cousinly  duty, 
while  he  himself  carried  the  business  to  his  lawyers  in 
Room  29.  They  knew  some  things  that  he  sought  to 
tell  them,  and  some  things  that  he  could  not.  Pack 
and  Krauntz  they  knew  too  well ;  also  a  long  list  of 
their  rascalities.  The  Ottway  business  they  knew 
enough  of  to  pronounce  it  "a  miserable,  mixed-up 
mess,"  and  to  advise  the  major  to  have  nothing  to  do 
with  it.  But  when  he  informed  them  that  he  was 
already  an  owner  in  the  tract,  and  a  creditor  of  other 
owners,  and  that  he  proposed  to  fight  the  thing  out  on 
that  line  if  it  cost  him  a  hundred  thousand  dollars, 
Messrs.  Fisk  &  Willis  waived  their  objections  and 
promised  to  do  what  they  could.  A  hundred  thousand 
dollar  case,  backed  by  a  five  hundred  thousand  dollar 
client,  did  not  grow  on  every  bush. 

"  Within  thirty  days,"  said  Mr.  Willis,  "  we  will 
have  a  test  case  ready  to  carry  into  court." 

"  Which  is  precisely  where  these  rascals  don't  want 
to  go,"  remarked  Mr.  Fisk.  "  They  depend  on  private 
* 


AX   ODD  DETECTIVE.  367 

dickering,  lying,  and  browbeating,  by  which  to  carry 
their  point  with  individual  claimants.  They  don't 
want  law  ;  it 's  poison  to  them." 

"Give  them  plenty  of  it,  then,"  said  the  major. 

"•  We  '11  give  them  all  there  is  in  the  books,"  responded 
Mr.  Fisk. 

It  was  seven  by  the  courthouse  clock  when  the 
major  left  the  block  to  return  to  his  hotel.  He  crossed 
the  street  and  followed  the  precise  route  taken  by  the 
Venetian  lords  on  that  May  evening  when  they  sowed 
their  foolish  secrets  upon  the  flagstones  for  poor  Grim 
to  glean  after  them.  Little  they  dreamed  what  the 
gleaner  had  done  since  that  day,  or  what  reapers  were 
sharpening  their  sickles  to  destroy  them. 

The  major  was  perplexed  to  know  just  how  much  of 
what  he  had  discovered  should  be  told  to  Lucy.  He 
decided  to  tell  her  nothing  of  the  reference  of  the  plot 
to  herself.  It  would,  he  knew,  give  her  a  sense  of 
humiliation  to  know  that  she  had  been  treated  as  an 
article  of  speculative  commerce  by  these  low  hucksters, 
and  he  saw  nothing  to  be  gained  by  the  annoyance. 
He  would  simply  acquaint  her  with  the  present  condi- 
tion of  the  Ottway  business  and  the  measures  which 
he  had  taken  for  its  adjustment. 

Lucy  rallied  him  upon  his  late  return,  and  demanded 
to  know  the  fate  of  poor  Grim.  She  declared  that 
she  saw  guilt  in  his  eye,  and  blood  stains  on  his  cloth- 


368  THE   nOCKAXOrn    STAiiE. 

ing.  "  You  have  beheaded  him,  I  know  you  have," 
she  said.  "  If  you  do  not  immediately  prove  the  con- 
trary, I  will  denounce  you  to  the  police." 

When  her  gayety  had  expended  itself  and  they  had 
finished  their  tea  together,  she  listened  gravely  to  his 
report,  from  which  he  carefully  excluded  all  that  re- 
ferred to  her,  and  consequently  all  direct  reference  to 
Mr.  MacAllan.  She  saw  merely  the  scheme  of  Pack 
and  Krauntz  to  secure  a  few  thousand  dollars  by  cruis- 
ing the  ruin  of  the  Ottway  farmers.  She  approved 
-all  that  had  been  done,  and  praised  the  major  for  his 
painstaking  kindness.  She  wished  to  ask  him  if  any 
new  evidence  appeared  to  the  discredit  of  Mr.  Mac- 
Allan,  but  restrained  herself  from  doing  so.  It  would 
seem  like  reviving  their  recent  quarrel,  which  she  had 
no  desire  to  have  repeated.  The  silence  of  the  major 
concerning  the  matter  sufficiently  convinced  her  that 
he  had  no  new  light  upon  it.  u  He  would  not  lose  an 
opportunity  to  prove  himself  in  the  right  were  it  possi- 
ble," she  thought.  The  connection  of  Mr.  MacAllan 
with  the  earlier  stages  of  the  business  was  evident 
enough,  but  that  he  had  himself  acknowledged  and 
explained.  He  had  severed  that  connection  upon  dis- 
covery of  the  fraud  intended  ;  that  was  creditable  to 
him.  He  had  been  specially  moved  thereto  by  his 
desire  of  pleasing  Lucy;  that  was  flattering  to  her. 

A  new  thought  struck  her.     u  What  a  useful  ally  he 


AN  ODD  DETECTIVE. 


would  be  in  our  crusade  against  the  conspirators  !  He 
knows  the  plot  in  all  its  details.  He  would  be  glad  to 
assist  me  in  the  execution  of  a  plan  on  which  I  have 
set  my  heart.  To  do  so  would  enable  him  to  set  him- 
self right  in  the  eyes  of  the  community,  and  help  to 
undo  any  evil  which  he  might  innocently  have  done. 
Do  I  not  owe  him  this  opportunity  to  vindicate  him- 
self? Do  I  not  owe  it  to  the  Ottway  people  to  secure 
them  such  valuable  aid  if  possible?"  The  more  she 
thought  of  it,  the  clearer  became  her  convictions  of 
duty.  "•  I  really  ought  to  do  this  thing,"  she  said. 
"I  have  no  right  to  do  otherwise."  Right  —  ought 
—  duty  —  these  were  momentous  words  with  Lucy 
Darling. 

Hut  how  was  she  to  bring  this  new  alliance  about? 
Of  Mr.  Mat-Allan's  readiness  for  it  she  had  not  a 
doubt.  The  whole  dilliculty  was  with  the  major.  To 
propo.se  such  an  experiment  to  him,  with  his  present 
prejudice  against  Mr.  MacAllan,  would  be  to  invite 
another  quarrel.  Even  this  she  would  risk,  if  it  were 
likely  to  end  in  bringing  her  guardian  to  her  way  of 
thinking;  but  she  could  not  flatter  herself  that  it 
would.  She  had  little  to  oppose  to  his  present  views 
on  the  subject  but  her  woman's  conviction  that  she 
was  right  and  In-  was  wrong,  which  she  well  knew 
would  weigh  nothing  with  him.  If  it  were  a  matter  of 
less  moment,  she  could  overcome  him  by  the  vehemence 


370  THE  ROCKANOCK  STAGE. 

of  her  wishes,  as  she  had  done  iu  the  matter  of  the 
Ottway  loans.  She  well  knew  how  hard  it  was  for 
him  to  resist  her  "  I  want  to  do  it."  But  here  such  an 
appeal  was  useless.  The  more  he  loved  her,  the  more 
impossible  would  it  be  to  coax  him  into  a  measure  that 
he  would  believe  fatal  to  their  success. 

The  only  way  to  do  Mr.  MacAllan  this  act  of  neces- 
sary justice,  and  to  secure  to  the  Ottway  people  this 
invaluable  auxiliary,  was  to  treat  with  him  privately, 
unfolding  their  plans  to  him,  and  engaging  his  confi- 
dential- advice  and  cooperation.  In  this  way  she 
would  soon  be  able  to  present  such  evidence  of  his 
trustworthiness  as  the  major  could  not  gainsay. 

She  disliked  the  secrecy  of  the  thing,  but  it  was  to 
be  temporary,  and  seemed  fully  justified  by  the  end  to 
be  secured.  She  would  be  doing  the  major  no  wrong. 
The  business  was  more  hers  than  his,  anyway  ;  and  if 
she  saw  a  way  to  improve  upon  his  plan  she  had  a 
perfect  right  to  follow  it,  especially  as  she  foresaw  his 
acquiescence  and  her  own  triumph. 

Saturday  came  with  a  cold  east  wind  and  a  drizzling 
rain.  Little  cared  the  girl  who  stepped,  laughing, 
into  the  carriage  at  the  Tremout  House  entrance,  and 
little  cared  the  English-looking  old  gentleman  who  took 
his  seat  beside  her.  "Northwestern  Depot,"  he  said 
to  the  tarpaulined  driver  who  banged  the  door  after 
them,  and  away  they  went,  each  with  a  secret  that 


ODD  DETECTIVE.  371 


Concerned  the  other,  and  holding  it  fast,  in  all  good 
conscience,  each  for  the  other's  sake. 

They  did  not  dream  that  they  had  looked  their  last 
on  the  Tremont  and  the  architectural  magnificence  that 
surrounded  it  ;  that  before  they  came  that  way  again, 
the  massive  walls  of  brick  and  stone  between  which 
they  rode  would  reel  and  crumble  before  the  fiery 
tempest  that  should  sweep  over  them  ;  that  from  the 
river  to  the  lake,  southward  through  the  commercial 
heart  of  the  city,  northward  over  whole  square  miles 
of  its  homes,  stately  and  lowly,  there  soon  would 
stretch  a  vast,  smoking  desert. 

"Marvelous  city!"  said  the  major  as  they  turned 
into  Chirk  Street,  and  took  their  place  in  the  proces- 
sion waiting  for  the  bridge  to  close.  "  What  will  it 
be,  I  wonder,  twenty-five  years  from  now  ?  " 

Be  content,  good  major,  to  say  twenty-five  days. 


CHAPTER   XXVIII. 

AN    EAST   WIND. 

WITH  all  its  virtues  the  Rockanock  stage  was 
not  the  most  comfortable  of  vehicles  on  a 
rainy  day.  The  water  dripped  from  the  roof,  trickled 
through  many  a  crack  and  rent,  saturated  the  cushions 
and  the  floor,  and  filled  the  air  with  the  odor  of  musty 
woolen  and  damp  straw.  One  had  the  sense  of  sitting 
on  a  quaking  bog,  with  his  feet  iu  the  damp  grass. 

But  Lucy  and  the  major  were  in  no  mood  to  be  made 
miserable  by  circumstances.  They  praised  their  luxu- 
rious surroundings,  and  agreed  that  the  stage  was 
never  so  delightful.  During  the  last  part  of  the  jour- 
ney they  were  again  the  only  passengers. 

"You  have  given  me  a  great  pleasure,"  said  Lucy 
as  they  drew  near  Rockby.  "  What  can  I  do  to  show 
you  how  grateful  I  am  for  it  ?  " 

"  There  is  no  need  of  any  return  or  acknowledg- 
ment," he  answered.  "  I  am  sure  I  have  enjoyed  it 
more  than  you  have.  Yet,  if  you  are  in  the  mood  to 
be  particularly  good  to  me  "  — 

"  If  you  are  in  the  mood  to  let  me  serve  you,  try 
me  and  see  if  I  deny  you  the  utmost  of  your  wish. 
What  is  it?" 

sn 


.l.V   EAST    WIXD.  373 

"  I  have  two  requests  to  make,"  he  said,  rather 
more  seriously  than  she  liked;  "and  now  you  are 
blushing  already,  before  I  so  much  as  name  them."- 

"•  That  shows  my  eagerness  to  hear  them,"  she 
replied,  blushing  more  deeply  yet.  "Don't  keep  me 
in  suspense." 

• k  The  first  is  that  you  will  not  be  angry  at  the  second." 

••That  I  freely  promise.  I  would  also  willingly 
grant  the  other  in  advance,  but  will  save  my  consent 
till  afterwards,  so  as  to  have  the  greater  pleasure  in 
giving  it.  Now  tell  me  what  that  dreadful  request  is 
that  you  feared  I  would  be  angry  at." 

kk  Do  you  remember  making  a  very  extravagant 
comparison  the  other  day  ?  " 

••  No,  >ir." 

"  Then  let  me  remind  you  that  you  compared  my 
little  finger  with  a  certain  individual,  in  terms  highly 
llattering  to  the  little  finger." 

"I  remember  that,  but  it  was  no  extravagance." 

kv  Would  n't  you  like  to  recall  the  remark?  " 

••  Nn.  sir;  not  a  word  of  it." 

"  Well,  I  don't  need  to  recall  the  naughty  things  I 
said  that  day,  for  I  took  them  all  back  on  the  spot." 

kk  Be  careful  not  to  say  any  more.  I  don't  like  things 
that  have  to  be  taken  back.  I  know  what  your  request 
is,  though  ;  you  need  n't  be  so  afraid  to  speak  it." 

"What  do  you  think  it  is?" 


374  THE  EOCKANOCK  STAGE. 

"  You  want  me  to  renounce  the  acquaintance  of  the 
'certain  individual'  referred  to,  and  never  speak  to 
him  again." 

"  No,  I  don't,  Lu.  I  only  want  you  to  be  more 
guarded  in  your  intercourse  with  him  ;  to  accept  no 
marked  attentions  from  him,  particularly  in  public." 

"  I  never  have  accepted  marked  attentions,  because, 
for  one  reason,  he  has  never  offered  them.  You  put  a 
wrong  interpretation  upon  things." 

"  No,  dear,  I  think  not.  So  far  as  you  are  con- 
cerned, I  accept  your  own  statement  of  the  case  with- 
out question.  In  regard  to  him,  I  have  means  of 
information  which  you  have  not,  and  know  his  inten- 
tions thoroughly.  But  even  if  he  were  as  innocent  as 
you  are  in  the  matter,  the  public  would  not  believe  it, 
and  does  not.  Your  names  are  already  associated  in 
a  way  that  I  do  not  like." 

"•The  public"  —  began  Lucy  with  rising  color  and 
unsteady  voice,  but  got  no  further.  The  parlor  scene 
seemed  likely  to  be  repeated. 

"  My  dear  girl !  "  said  the  major  in  distress,  "  there 
is  no  need  of  feeling  unhappy  about  it.  You  have 
lost  no  credit,  and  no  harm  has  been  done.  But  I 
thought  you  ought  to  know  that  there  was  need  of 
caution.  It  is  only  my  blundering  way  of  getting  at 
it  that  makes  it  seem  so  bad  to  }rou." 

"I  have  been  so  happy!"  said  Lucy  pathetically, 
"  and  now  it  is  all  spoiled !  " 


EAST  WIND.  375 

The  major  snt  in  helpless  chagrin.  He  had  tried 
his  best  to  handle  the  matter  delicately,  but  what  a 
mess  he  had  made  of  it !  He  had  been  even  more 
unskillful  than  he  knew.  What  surer  way  could  he 
have  taken  to  render  the  girl  susceptible  to  the  atten- 
tions against  which  he  was  warning  her,  than  by  inter- 
preting them  to  her,  dwelling  upon  the  fascinating 
danger  there  was  in  them,  and  trying  to  bind  her  to 
avoid  them?  What  course  could  he  commend  to  her 
more  certain  to  increase  her  suitor's  ardor,  or  to 
heighten  her  interest  in  him? 

The  uppermost  feeling  with  her  at  this  moment  was 
that  of  mortification.  She  had  never  for  an  instant 
understood  Mr.  MacAllan's  attentions  to  her  to  be 
anything  more  than  friendly.  He  had  been  polite  to 
her.  She  had  found  him  agreeable.  They  had  spent 
pleasant  hours  together.  When  she  thought  him  ill- 
used  by  others,  she  had  stood  by  him.  That  was  all. 
She  had  given  him  no  place  in  her  esteem  but  that  of 
a  courteous  acquaintance.  She  had  never  understood 
him  to  seek  for  more,  and  she  did  not  now.  But  the 
possibility  that  she  might  have  seemed,  either  to  him 
or  to  others,  to  express  a  warmer  regard,  filled  her 
with  shame  and  anger. 

"I  have  broken  my  promise,  major,"  she  said. 
"  I  am  as  angry  as  I  can  be;  but  it  is  not  with  you. 
]  thank  you  sincerely  for  what  you  have  bald,  and  will 


o76  THE  HOCKANOCK  STAGE. 

put  it  to  good  use.  You  shall  have  no  further  occa- 
sion to  complain  of  roe.  I  will  be  as  prudent  as  you 
wish." 

Her  voice  sounded  strangely  to  him.  It  seemed  to 
have  lost  its  clearness  and  resonance.  He  attributed 
the  change  to  suppressed  emotion,  and  would  have 
taken  back  his  words,  and  called  himself  bad  names 

x 

again.  But  they  were  already  at  the  gate;  the  stage 
door  opened  and  the  doctor  appeared,  with  jolly  face 
and  heart}7  greeting,  and  what  was  quite  as  much  to 
the  purpose  —  umbrellas. 

"  Caught  cold,  eh?"  he  said,  as  Lucy  responded  to 
his  salutation.  "  We  must  attend  to  that  throat." 

Lucy  affected  to  make  light  of  the  matter,  but  con- 
fessed to  a  slight  soreness,  which  increased  disagree- 
ably during  the  evening,  not  sufficiently,  however,  to 
prevent  her  welcoming  Maggie  most  affectionately  in 
her  room,  and  chatting  with  her  incessantly  for  an 
hour,  while  unpacking  her  trunk. 

The  girls  were  pursuing  an  animated  conversation, 
despite  Lucy's  flushed  cheeks  and  husky  voice,  when 
Mr.  Mac  Allan  was  announced. 

"Please  say,"  replied  Lucy  promptly,  "that  I  am 
not  well,  and  asked  to  be  excused." 

She  had  composed  the  little  speech  beforehand, 
anticipating  the  call. 

The  next  morning  her  throat  was  worse.     So  was 


AN   EAST    HYA7>.  377 

the  weather.  It  was  communion  Sabbath.  Mr. 
Austin  had  exchanged  with  a  ministerial  neighbor. 
who  was  to  administer  the  sacrament,  and  Lucy  was 
to  have  united  with  the  church.  But  the  doctor  for- 
bade her  leaving  the  house.  Thus,  after  having 
yielded  her  personal  feelings  in  the  matter,  and 
decided  that  it  would  not  be  right  to  allow  them  ta 
govern  the  performance  of  so  holy  a  duty,  she  unex- 
pectedly found  herself  shut  up  to  the  very  course 
which  she  had  abandoned. 

She  was  alarmed  at  the  great  gladness  which  the 
necessity  brought  her.  She  dared  not  too  readily 
accept  it.  Was  the  doctor  sure  that  she  might  not  go, 
well  wrapped,  and  in  a  clo>e  carriage,  and  stay  at 
lca>t  through  the  service  of  admission?  Mr.  Austin 
expected  it,  and  would  be  disappointed.  Her  name 
had  been  publicly  announced;  people  would  think 
strange  of  her  absence.  But  the  doctor  was  inex- 
orable. It  would  be  at  the  risk  of  her  life,  he  said, 
and  he  would  not  hear  of  it.  He  would  lock  her  up 
in  the  closet  with  the  skeleton,  and  the  bottled  snakes, 
and  the  surgical  instruments,  if  she  proposed  such  a 
thing.  So  it  was  settled,  and  ( iod  would  let  her  have 
her  wish,  after  all !  She  went  to  her  room  and  gave 
thanks,  with  tears  of  joy,  for  the  blessed  suffering 
which  seemed  to  be  sent  expressly  to  reserve  her  for 
the  administration  of  the  ordinances  at  the  hands  of 


378  THE  ROCKAXOCK  STAGE. 

her  own  pastor.  "It  was  no  sin  then  to  wish  it,"  she 
reflected,  "  and  the  service  will  always  mean  so  much 
more  to  me  !  " 

She  was  a  little  troubled,  however,  by  certain  feel- 
ings which  possessed  her  during  the  day,  and  sorely 
feared  that  they  were  sinful.  She  was  annoyed  at 
seeing  a  stranger  in  Mr.  Austin's  seat  at  the  table,  and 
at  knowing  that  he  also  supplanted  him  in  the  pulpit. 
She  felt  no  regret  at  her  inability  to  attend  worship, 
and  no  interest  in  the  service.  Her  thoughts  followed 
the  pastor  to  the  strange  pulpit  in  which  he  was 
ministering,  and  as  the  time  of  service  came,  she 
observed  it  with  him.  "  Now,"  she  said,  "  he  is  read- 
ing the  hymn,  now  the  Scripture  lesson;  now  he  is 
praying  ;  now  he  is  beginning  his  sermon."  She  won- 
dered if  this  was  the  way  in  which  the  Eastern  girl 
who  loved  him  held  spiritual  fellowship  with  him  in  his 
work,  following  him  thus  with  her  thoughts  and  with 
the  breath  of  silent  prayer. 

The  solitude  of  the  day  gave  her  space  for  reflection 
upon  what  her  guardian  had  said  to  her  at  the  close  of 
their  journey.  She  still  thought  his  suspicions  ground- 
less, but  was  resolved  to  act  according  to  his  wishes. 
It  could  do  no  harm,  and  would  at  least  please  him, 
which  she  cared  far  more  for  than  for  pleasing  Mr. 
MacAllan.  Yet,  if  it  was  true  that  she  had  the  power  to 
do  Mr,  MacAllan  good,  as  he  said,  and  she  only,  did 


AN  EAST    }]'L\D.  379 

not  that  constitute  a  clear  call  of  duty?  Had  she  a 
right  to  neglect  such  an  opportunity  of  influence? 
What  if  the  fate  of  this  man's  soul  were  indeed  in  her 
hand.-? 

Lucy's  absence  from  the  choir  was  freely  commented 
ii[;ou,  and  was  by  most  persons  ascribed  to  her  sympa- 
thy with  Mr.  Mac-Allan.  Not  a  very  creditable  reason, 
they  thought,  for  leaving  her  post.  But  to  refuse,  for 
such  a  cause,  to  unite  with  the  church,  after  her  name 
had  been  propounded,  and  all!  Did  you  ever?  Well, 
it  was  pretty  good  proof  that  she  never  was  converted. 
Those  who  chanced  to  hear  the  sore  throat  story 
smiled  knowingly.  Yes,  sore  throats  are  such  a  con- 
venience to  singers,  and  cover  such  a  multitude  of 
sins  ! 

Mr.  MacAllan  himself  was  in  some  doubt  upon  the 
subject,  and  knew  not  whether  to  he  more  pleased  or 
displeased  by  her  absence.  Petty  deception  was  such 
a  second  nature  to  him,  that  he  would  not  have  been  in 
the  least  shocked  to  find  even  so  conscientious  a  girl 
as  Lucy  resorting  to  it.  He  half  suspected  that  the 
illness  pleaded  by  her  on  the  previous  night,  as  a  rea- 
son for  not  seeing  him,  was  feigned  for  a  purpose. 
But  what  purpose?  To  pique  him,  and  make  him  feej 
her  power  over  him?  Or  to  enable  her  to  comply  with 
the  wishes  of  those  who  would  keep  her  from  seeing 
him?  He  felt  rather  less  sure  of  her,  and  rather  more 


380  THE  ROCKANOCK  STAGE. 

fear  of  the  major,  since  the  Chicago  journey.  It 
seemed  to  him  more  and  more  likely  that  her  guardian 
was  a  suitor  for  her  hand,  and  more  and  more  possible 
that  he  was  an  accepted  suitor,  as  Mr.  Austin  claimed. 
At  any  rate,  there  was  danger  of  trouble  from  the  old 
fellow.  He  began  to  act  a  good  deal  like  an  opponent, 
if  he  were  not  a  rival ;  and,  in  the  circumstances,  one 
was  about  as  bad  as  the  other.  As  to  this  Austin,  he 
had  made  an  open  declaration  of  hostilities,  anyhow. 

On  the  whole,  Mr.  Mac-Allan  was  compelled  to  admit 
that  the  situation  was  serious,  if  not  critical.  He  did 
not  doubt  the  state  of  Lucy's  feelings,  or  that  he  could 
win  her  if  she  was  only  let  alone.  But  she  would  not 
be  let  alone.  She  had  evidently  been  interfered  with 
already.  The  major  probably,  the  minister  certainly, 
Dr.  and  Mrs.  Ashley  possibly,  would  oppose  his  suit. 
Could  he  win  it  in  spite  of  them?  He  thought  so,  if 
he  could  get  at  her ;  but  they  might  prevent  her  seeing 
him.  And  if  he  should  outwit  them  all,  and  persuade 
her  to  defy  them,  would  not  the  major  annul  his  will, 
and  cut  her  off  without  a  penny?  And  if  he  should  do 
so,  would  Mr.  Mac  Allan  wish  to  marry  her  ?  Could  he 
afford  to  do  it?  How  would  he  settle  his  score  with 
Krauntz  ?  How  would  he  support  his  portionless  wife  ? 
She  had  a  small  income,  to  be  sure,  but  not  enough 
for  two. 

Mr.   MacAllan   spent  the  afternoon  of  Sunday  in 


AN  EAST  WIND.  381 

studying  the  situation,  and  writing  an  elaborate  state- 
ment of  it  to  Mr.  Pack.  "  Consult  tbe  elder  without 
delay,"  he  said,  "  and  see  if,  between  you,  you  cannot 
devise  some  help  or  counsel  for  me." 

At  the  very  moment  that  he  was  thus  crying  to  his 
gods  for  aid,  Lucy  herself  knelt  in  prayer  for  him 
before  her  Lord.  She  commended  to  the  divine  love 
this  soul  that  had  professed  a  desire  for  light  and 
peace.  She  entreated  for  him  heavenly  guidance, 
clearer  knowledge  of  the  truth,  a  firmer  purpose  for 
the  right,  deliverance  from  temptation,  defense  against 
the  misjadgments  and  the  uncharity  of  men.  She 
asked  wisdom  for  herself,  that  she  might  see  all 
things  clearly,  that  she  might  do  all  things  discreetly, 
womanly,  Christianly. 

At  the  time  of  evening  service  she  again  kept  the 
hour  with  her  pastor,  and  invoked  blessing  and  power 
upon  the  message  that  he  was  speaking  to  men.  The 
doctor  looked  in  upon  her  now  and  then  during  the 
day,  examined  her  throat,  felt  her  pulse,  and  left 
some  remedy  or  directions,  but  was  well  satisfied  with 
her  progress  and  predicted  a  rapid  recovery.  When 
Ileli-n  came  at  bedtime  to  say  good  night  and  see  that 
nothing  was  lacking,  she  found  a  very  different  face 
upon  the  pillow  from  that  which  had  lain  there  on 
that  night  in  May  when  Lucy  called  herself  a  pagan. 
The  face  was  almost  transfigured  now.  4t  O  Helen  !  " 


382  THE  ItOCKANOCK  STAGE. 

she  said,  "  I  have  had  such  a  happy,  happy  day  !  It 
has  been  the  sweetest  day  of  my  life." 

Monday  brought  bright  sunshine  and  soft,  delicious 
air.  It  also  brought  Mr.  Austin.  Lucy  met  him  with 
beaming  face,  and  greeted  him  in  a  voice  much  more 
like  her  own.  She  was  surprised  at  the  intensity  of  her 
pleasure  in  meeting  him,  and  made  no  effort  to  conceal 
it.  Here  was  one  whose  friendship  she  might  enjoy 
without  fear  of  any  misunderstanding.  "  I  have 
missed  you  so  much !  "  she  said  artlessly,  giving  him 
her  hand.  "  It  seems  a  long  time  since  I  saw  you." 

"  It  is  pleasant  to  be  missed,"  he  replied,  "  and 
altogether  a  new  sensation.  It  quite  repays  one  for 
the  trial  of  going  away.  But  how  hoarse  you  are  ! 
What  is  that  flannel  for?  "What  has  happened  to 
you?" 

"  Only  a  trifling  cold,  and  getting  better  every 
minute.  Yesterday  I  could  not  speak  aloud." 

' '  You  went  to  church  ?  " 

"  No ;  the  doctor  would  not  let  me  so  much  as  look 
out  of  doors.  So  you  see  you  will  have  to  receive  me 
into  the  church,  after  all." 

His  face  glowed  with  pleasure.  "  It  will  be  a  very 
great  privilege,"  he  said.  "  If  I  could  choose  what 
my  first  official  act  should  be  after  my  ordination,  that 
is  what  I  would  ask." 

"  I  think  God  chooses  so,  too."  she  said  quietly. 


CHAFFER   XXIX. 

MONDAYISHNESS. 

ri  1HE  afternoon  was  so  fine  that  Lucy  was  permitted 
•*-  to  sit  for  an  hour  on  the  veranda.  Mr.  Austin 
found  her  there  as  he  was  going  forth  to  make  pastoral 
r:ills.  She  was  warmly  wrapped,  and  looked  a  little 
pale  and  weary,  leaning  back  in  her  easy-chair,  and 
turning,  rather  indifferently,  the  pages  ot  a  magazine. 
She  smiled  as  he  approached  her,  and  let  the  magazine 
fall  into  her  lap. 

"  How  are  you  feeling?"  he  asked. 

44  Rather  lonesome,  thank  you,"  she  said  with  an- 
other smile,  the  hue  of  which  confirmed  her  words. 
"  Helen  has  taken  the  children  to  the  photographer's, 
and  the  major  is  having  his  afternoon  nap.  You  do 
not  believe  in  the  decalogue,  I  see." 

"The  decalogue?  Why,  certainly.  What  made 
you  think  I  had  turned  heretic?" 

"  I  preferred  to  ascribe  your  violation  of  it  to  honest 
unbelief,  rather  than  te  deliberate  disobedience." 

"Excuse  me,"  he  said,  looking  perplexed,  "I  am 
Mondayish  to-day,  which  is  Hebrew  for  stupid.  I 
shall  have  to  ask  you  to  use  very  simple  and  literal 


384  THE  KOCKAXOCR  STAGE. 

language,  and  to  adapt  yourself  to  the  lowest  mental 
capacity."  He  leaned  upon  his  cane,  relaxing  the 
lame  leg,  and  waited  for  her  to  explain  herself. 

"Give  me  a  literal  definition  of  Moudayishness," 
she  said. 

"  Mondayishness  is  the  physical,  mental,  and  spiritual 
reaction  which  a  clergyman  suffers  after  his  Sunday 
work.  It  varies  all  the  way  from  a  comfortable  lan- 
guor to  utter  prostration  and  imbecility." 

"How  severe  is  your  present  attack?" 

"  Not  violent  for  the  average  minister,  but  unusually 
so  for  me.  A  Sabbath  in  a  strange  pulpit  is  more 
fatiguing  than  two  at  home." 

"Are  you  equal  to  the  effort  of  repeating  the  Fourth 
Commandment?" 

"  I  will  try."  He  did  so,  and  got  smoothly  on  till 
she  interrupted  him. 

"  You  have  omitted  something." 

"What?" 

"  The  exception  in  the  case  of  clergymen.  They  are 
not  required  to  do  all  their  work  in  six  days,  are  they  ?  " 

"Ah  !  I  begin  to  understand  you,"  he  said,  drawing 
up  a  camp-chair  and  seating  himself  before  her. 
"Have  you  heard  of  a  writing  called  the  Gospel  ac- 
cording to  St.  Matthew,  in  which  it  is  written,  '  The 
priests  in  the  temple  profane  the  sabbath,  and  are 
blameless '  ? " 


AIOXDA  Yisnxf-ss.  385 


"Yes,  sir;  and  I  have  heard  and  seen  a  devout 
priest,  an  able  expounder  of  both  law  and  gospel, 
who  recently  declared,  from  the  highest  seat  in  the 
Rockby  synagogue,  that  God  had  wrought  the  Sabbatic 
principles  into  the  nature  of  man,  into  the  animal 
economy,  into  inanimate  things,  into  the  constitution 
of  the  world  !  " 

"Well  ?" 

••  And  that  without  the  regular  Sabbatic  interval  of 
rest,  no  mechanism,  certainly  no  muscular  or  cerebral 
mechanism,  could  maintain  its  integrity." 

"Well  ?" 

••  And  that  the  man  who  works  seven  days  in  the 
week  profanes  not  only  the  Sabbath,  but  the  holiest  of 
all  temples,  his  own  body  and  soul." 

"  You  quote  well.  Will  you  favor  me  with  an 
application  of  this  excellent  doctrine?" 

"  Willingly.  The  priest  may  blamelessly  work  on 
the  Sabbath  that  others  may  be  spiritually  benetitcd. 
lie  may  not  blamelessly  work  seven  days  in  the  week. 
Hence,  my  brethren  "  — 

"  Kvery  clergyman  should  have  a  full  day  of  rest 
every  week,"  said  Mr.  Austin,  finishing  the  sentence 
for  her.  "  I  acknowledge  it,  Miss  Darling.  Most 
ministers  acknowledge  it." 

"  I  wish  sonic  of  them  would  more  conscientiously 
practice  it,"  she  said  earnestly.  "  Von  have  no 


386  THE  ROCKANOCK  STAGE. 

Sabbath.  You  allow  yourself  no  real  rest.  Here  you 
come  wearily  home  after  au  exhausting  day,  every 
faculty  jaded,  every  fiber  relaxed,  every  look  and 
motion  expressing  fatigue,  and  what  do  you  do  ?  Sleep, 
like  my  dear,  lazy  guardian  snoring  up  yonder?  Read 
a  novel,  like  good-for-nothing  me?  Swing  idly  in  the 
hammock?  Go  fishing  or  shooting?  Canter  awav  to 

O  ., 

Banbury  Cross  and  back?  No;  you  sally  forth  to  lacer- 
ate your  sensibilities  still  more  by  contact  with  some- 
body else's  distresses  which  you  have  just  life  enough  to 
feel,  and  not  relieve.  There  !  I  suppose  it  is  very  pre- 
sumptuous in  me  to  lecture  you  in  this  way;  but  there 
is  no  one  else  to  do  it.  You  must  not  be  vexed  with 
me." 

"  I  have  not  reached  quite  so  imbecile  a  state  as 
that  yet.  I  deserve  every  word  of  your  friendly 
rebuke,  and  not  a  whit  of  the  kindness  that  prompts 
it.  I  cannot  tell  you  how  strange  it  seems  to  have 
any  one  care  so  much  for  my  welfare.  I  am  not  used 
to  it.  I  can't  understand  it.  But  you  have  suggested 
some  rather  on-Sabbatic  occupations,  have  you  not?" 

She  was  puzzled  for  a  moment,  both  by  the  question 
and  by  the  words  that  preceded  it.  Her  response  was 
to  the  question  only:  "I  don't  think  they  are  un- 
Sabbatic.  The  Sabbath  is  for  rest,  for  worship,  and 
for  spiritual  culture.  That  is  your  own  statement  of 
its  purpose,  I  think.  We  have  the  three  elements 


MOXDA  YISIIXKSS.  387 

combined  on  Sunday.  You  have  only  two.  "VVe  have 
our  rest  in  combination  with  religious  service,  and 
must  harmonize  them  with  each  other.  You  take 
yours  in  connection  with  secular  occupations  and  may 
make  it  secular  also,  though,  in  fact,  I  think  it  will  be 
the  holier  to  you  the  more  completely  it  answers  its 
holy  purpose  —  to  repair  the  waste  which  your  powers 
have  undergone  in  Christian  service  and  prepare  vmi 
to  serve  again  at  the  proper  time." 

Mr.  Au>tin  looked  at  her  with  admiration  and  laid 
down  his  cane. 

"You  are  a  capital  reasoner,"  he  said.  "I  don't 
see  any  way  to  escape  your  conclusions." 

"  You  may  well  assent  to  them,"  she  answered. 
"  They  are  simply  corollaries  from  your  own  pul (lie- 
utterances.  I  don't  claim  them  as  original  or  as 
extempoiaiu'ous.  Kver  since  your  sermon  on  the 
Sabbath,  I  have  studied  a  good  deal  upon  its  practical 
applications,  particularly  to  ministers,  and  this  is  one 
result." 

The  doctor  had  driven  to  the  gate  and  came  briskly 
up  the  walk.  "  Now,  Tom,"  said  Lucy,  "  you  are 
just  in  time  to  shed  the  light  of  science  upon  our 
argument.  Tell  us  what  you  think  of  Sunday  from  a 
medical  point  of  view." 

"Just  tliis,"  replied  the  doctor  with  a  readiness 
which  showed  that  he  did  not  speak  extemporaneously 


388  THE  KOCKANOCK  STAGE. 

either;  u  if  the  Sabbath  were  stripped  to-day  of  all 
Biblical  or  moral  authority,  I  would  contend  for  it  on 
physiological  grounds  as  strenuously  as  I  would  for 
sleep  or  nutrition." 

"  Excepting  of  course  for  the  doctors,"  Mr.  Austin 
suggested  dryly. 

"  Preeminently  for  the  doctors,  I  would  rather  say. 
It  is  not  a  question  of  professions,  but  of  the  waste 
and  repair  of  a  perishable  organism.  The  man  who 
runs  his  machine  incessantly  will  wear  it  out,  and  a 
doctor  sooner  than  most  others  because  he  runs  it  so 
much  at  night." 

"  I  notice  that  you  are  usually  at  church  on  Sun- 
day," said  Mr.  Austin. 

"I  reduce  my  Sunday  practice  to  a  minimum,  and 
my  patients  understand  it.  I  keep  no  office  hours  on 
that  day  and  do  no  business  that  can  be  postponed  till 
Monday.  The  people  who  take  Sunday  to  be  sick 
in  because  they  have  nothing  else  to  do,  get  little  at- 
tention from  me." 

"  Yet  there  must  often  be  cases  which  cannot  be 
neglected." 

"  Not  so  many  as  you  might  imagine.  It  is  a  trick 
of  certain  doctors  to  be  driving  away  in  some  direction 
at  a  life-and-death  pace,  just  as  people  are  going  to 
church.  It 's  an  advertising  dodge.  Everybody  says, 
'  What  an  immense  practice !  Always  driven  at  the 


MOXDAYISII.\ESS.  389 

top  of  his  speed,  poor  man ! '  The  speed  lasts  as 
long  as  there  are  desirable  spectators  to  be  impressed 
by  it,  and  then  the  '  poor  man  '  heads  his  blown  nag 
for  home.  Later  in  the  day  he  is  called  to  visit  nerv- 
ous people  who  were  frightened  into  hysterics  by  im- 
agining that  somebody  was  killed,  and  inquisitive 
people  who  are  themselves  dying  of  curiosity  to  know 
whose  desperate  extremity  had  summoned  him." 

The  doctor's  listeners  laughed.  The  description 
called  to  their  remembrance  the  precipitous  nights  of 
a  certain  new  physician  of  the  town.  "  A  doctor 
who  habitually  rushes  to  his  work,"  he  added.  "  may 
safely  be  set  down  as  a  good-for-nothing.  For  if  it 
be  assumed  for  dramatic  effect,  as  it  generally  is,  it 
proves  him  morally  unfit  to  be  trusted.  If  it  be  genu- 
ine, it  shows  that  he  lacks  the  repose  and  self-con- 
trol indispensable  to  success.  A  first-class  physician 
rarely  hurries." 

••  Hut  about  the  Sunday  practice,"  said  Mr.  Austin, 
returning  to  the  point  from  which  they  had  diverged. 
"  There  must  be  frequent  calls  upon  you  that  need 
instant  attention.  I  have  often  wondered  how  you 
continued  to  be  so  regularly  at  church." 

"  It  is  not  so  diflictilt  as  you  suppose,"  the  doctor 
replied.  l'  When  one  really  tries  to  keep  his  Sunday 
in  a  Christian  way,  it  is  surprising  to  find  how  few 
there  are  that,  cannot  be  postponed  an  hour  or 


390  THE  EOCKANOCK  STAGE. 

two,  and  how  few  Sundays  on  which  an  ordinary  prac- 
titioner cannot  get  a  fair  chance  for  rest  and  worship 
if  he  wants  to." 

"  It  would  seem,"  said  Mr.  Austin,  "  that  physi- 
cians ought  to  appreciate  the  physiological  argument 
for  the  Sabbath,  if  not  the  theological." 

"  If  they  did,"  answered  Dr.  Ashley,  "  there  would 
be  fewer  of  them  in  premature  graves  and  in  lunatic 
^asylums,  and  more  to  go  on  preying  upon  the  credu- 
lous public.  So,  you  see,  what  is  their  loss  is  the 
world's  gain." 

"  Do  stop,  Tom  !  "  cried  Lucy  "  You  frighten  me 
by  the  honesty  of  these  confessions.  I  don't  know 
whether  to  fear  incipient  insanity  for  you,  or  to  believe 
that  you  are  growing  too  good  to  live." 

"  Oh,  I  have  only  cited  some  of  the  more  innocent 
tricks  of  the  profession.  In  fact,  so  far  as  Sunday 
is  concerned,  the  ministers  are  far  worse  than  the 
doctors." 

"  The  ministers !  "  exclaimed  Lucy,  looking  mis- 
chievously at  Mr.  Austin,  "  you  don't  mean  to  charge 
them  with  Sabbath  breaking  ?  " 

"  They  are  the  most  incorrigible  Sabbath  breakers 
in  the  world." 

"What?"  said  Mr.  Austin,  "  aren't  we  always  at 
church,  and  don't  we  preach  long  sermons  on  the 
Fourth  Commandment?" 


MOM) A  IV.vy/.VA'.v.v.  391 

"  Ob,  yes  !  "  the  doctor  retorted,  "  you  thunder  out 
the  law  at  the  rest  of  us,  and  then  break  it  all  to 
pieces  and  yourselves  with  it.  You  argue  that  man 
needs  one  day  of  rest  every  week,  and  then  you  work 
the  whole  seven,  as  if,  forsooth,  you  supposed  that 
clerical  orders  were  a  license  for  perpetual  motion,  or 
that  they  wrought  a  change  in  your  organism  —  a  sort 
of  holy  indestructibility,  or  that  God  would  perform  a 
miracle  to  save  you  from  the  consequences  of  your 
disobedience.  But  he  won't.  The  wages  of  sin  is 
death,  to  the  reverend  sinner  as  surely  as  the  com- 
monest scalawag  of  us  all.  You  '11  never  believe  it, 
though.  You  '11  go  on  in  a  perpetual  expenditure  of 
vitality  till  it  is  all  gone,  and  then  call  on  us  to  save 
you  from  a  richly  deserved  strait  jacket  or  collin. 
Is  that  enough  'light  of  science'  for  one  dose?" 

"  You  must  have  <|iieer  labels  for  your  doses,"  said 
Lucy,  ••  if  you  call  that  either  science  or  light.  It  is 
neither;  it  is  simply  accusation,  of  which  I  had  ad- 
ministered to  Mr.  Austin  quite  enough  already.  How 
shall  a  clergyman  get  his  week-day  Sabbath?  that  is 
the  question.  Come,  now;  you  are  accustomed  to 
prex-ribr  for  ministers  gratuitously,  I  believe." 

k'  Let  him  take  it,  as  other  people  do  their  Sunday 
Sabbath,  making  a  matter  of  (vn>eienee  of  it.  Now 
here  is  Austin:  what  you  need.  Austin,  is  to  let  tip 
the  strain  under  which  you  keep  yourself.  You  need 


392  THE  EOCEAXOCK  STAGE. 

to  unbend.  You  need  to  play.  And  if  you  don't  do 
it  you  are  going  to  break  down ;  ruincl  what  I  tell 
you." 

The  doctor  went  to  his  office,  whence  he  presently 
came  again,  and  shaking  his  finger  at  the  minister  as 
he  passed,  drove  away.  Lucy  looked  very  sober. 
"What  do  you  decide  to  do?"  she  asked  gently, 
"  break  down  or  "  — 

"  For  to-day,  I  will  do  anything  you  bid  me."  He 
rose  and  stood  before  her.  "You  are  a  good  coun- 
selor," he  said.  "  What  do  you  advise?" 

"  Do  what  will  rest  you  more,  and  give  you  more 
pleasure  than  anything  else  in  the  world." 

'•  I  know  what  that  will  be,"  he  said.  He  removed 
the  camp-chair,  brought  an  easy-chair  and  put  it  in  its 
place,  and  again  took  his  seat  before  her.  "  I  cannot 
think  of  anything  so  pleasant  or  restful,"  he  said,  "  as 
to  stay  here  and  talk  with  you." 

It  was  not  flattery.  It  was  not  even  an  intentional 
compliment.  Had  it  been  either  the  one  or  the  other, 
it  would  not  have  set  her  pale  cheeks  aflame  as  it  did. 
She  had  heard  plenty  of  both  compliment  and  flattery, 
from  both  masculine  and  feminine  admirers,  and 
counted  the  one  a  sweet  nothing  and  the  other  an 
insult.  But  here  was  something  of  a  different  quality 
—  an  unstudied  honesty  of  speech,  from  one  whose 
good  opinion  she  valued  very  highly,  and  setting  a 


MONDAYJXUXESS.  393 

value  upon  her  such  as  she  had  never  held  in  any  other 
man's  estimation.  She  felt  the  blood  go,  wave  after 
wave,  to  her  cheeks  and  temples,  and  the  moisture 
gathering  in  her  eyes.  Usually  she  could  parry  an 
embarrassing  speech  with  some  playful  repartee  ;  but 
wit,  tact,  and  even  voice  failed  her,  and  she  actually 
turned  her  face  aside  like  a  bashful  child. 

Mr.  Austin  feared  that  he  had  offended  her,  or  that 
she  was  too  weary  to  enjoy  further  conversation. 
"  Pardon  me,"  he  said,  "  I  took  an  unfair  advantage 
of  you.  You  are  fatigued,  and  must  not  talk  any 
more.  I  ought  to  have  thought  of  that.  You  see  ho\v 
bad  the  Mondayishness  is,  and  how  stupid  and  selfish 
it  makes  one."  He  readied  for  his  cane  and  hat. 

Lucy  quickly  turned  toward  him,  half  raising  herself 
in  her  chair,  and  extending  her  hand  as  if  to  detain 
him.  ••  Don't  go!  "  she  said  with  a  look  and  voice 
that  there  was  no  disobeying.  "  Pray,  don't  go.  I 
am  not  fatigued  in  the  least,  only  a  little  weak  and 
babush.  You  don't  tire  me.  You  rest  me.  I  want 
to  talk  with  you  ;  and  I  won't  read  you  any  more 
leetmvs,  or  set  any  more  doctors  upon  you,  if  you  will 
stay  with  me." 

He  stayed,  and  led  the  conversation  back  to  the 
Sunday  question,  whence  it  went  of  itself  to  the  sub- 
ject of  yesterday's  service.  Lucy  was  eager  to  hear 
about  it,  and  made  him  repeat  his  tests  to  her,  and 


394  THE  110CKANOCK  STAGE. 

tell  her  how  his  themes  took  hold  of  his  own  mincl,  and 
how  the  congregation  seemed  to  respond  to  them.  "I 
felt  the  lack  of  a  personal  sympathy  between  us,  such 
as  pervades  my  home  work,"  he  said,  "  yet  all  day 
long  the  sense  of  some  sustaining  presence  was  with 
me,  and  it  was  very  inspiring.  I  could  not  resist  the 
impression  that  some  good  saint  among  them  was 
praying  for  me." 

The  telltale  blushes  were  in  Lucy's  face  again,  but 
he  did  not  guess  their  story.  "Do  you  often  have 
direct  answers  to  your  prayers?"  she  asked. 

"  I  believe  that  all  true  prayer  is  answered,"  he 
replied.  "But  you  mean  answers  that  I  distinctly 
recognize  as  such.  Yes,  I  think  I  do.  Do  not  you?" 

"  Oh,  very,  very  often !  The  most  unmistakable 
answers,  the  most  wonderful.  Nothing  is  more  real 
to  me.  Sometimes  I  feel  as  if  I  could  ask  for  any- 
thing, and  get  it !  " 

What  Mr.  Austin  said  in  reply  she  did  not  know. 
She  had  turned  her  face  from  him  as  she  spoke,  rest- 
ing her  cheek  against  the  soft  plush  of  the  chair  back, 
and  letting  her  eyes  wander  out  across  the  garden. 
They  suddenly  fixed  themselves  upon  some  object,  and 
dilated  with  the  effort  to  see  it  more  perfectly.  The 
gable  of  Deacon  "NVaubertou's  cottage  was  in  view. 
The  blinds  were  closed,  but  behind  them  was  distinctly 
outlined  the  figure  of  a  man,  while  at  a  certain  open- 


395 


ing  between  the  slats  the  light  was  reflected  from  two 
glass  disks  or  lenses.  It  was  dillicult  to  aflirm  very 
positively  what  tin-  apparition  was;  but  the  hypoth- 
of  a  man  witli  a  field  glass  would  account 
for  the  phenomenon.  It  will  be  remembered  that  the 
occupant  of  the  chamber  iu  that  gable  was  the  owner 
of  a  field  glass,  and  had  used  it  to  watch  the  move- 
incuts  of  the  Ashley  household. 

Lucy  had  no  doubt  that  the  glass  was  now  directed 
at  her,  and  felt  tin-  scrutiny  to  be  impertinent.  She 
mentally  contracted  the  owner  of  the  glass  with  the 
man  now  witting  before  her.  She  tried  to  imagine 
this  frank,  open-hearted  fellow  watching  his  neighbors 
by  stealth,  and  told  herself  that  he  was  incapable  of 
such  an  act. 

The  major  came  down  and  drew  his  chair  near 
Lucy's,  and  talked  of  her  illness,  of  the  ride  in  the 
rain  which  caused  it,  of  the  substitute  singer  of  yes- 
terday, of  the  stranger  who  preached,  of  the  thin 
congregation,  composed  chiefly  of  persons  living  at 
a  distance,  ami  gave  utterance  to  some  of  his  ideas 
about  church  matters,  as  oracular  and  as  wide  of  the 
truth  as  such  men's  notion.-,  aiv  apt  to  be. 

Helen  and  the  children  returned  from  the  photog- 
rapher's and  joined  the  group,  reciting  the  little 
incidents  of  the  afternoon,  and  giving  to  the  most 
trifling  commonplaces  the  interest  of  a  fairy  tale. 


396  THE  EOCKAXOCK  STAGE. 

Thus  the  hour  extended  into  two.  But  from  time 
to  time  Lucy  felt  her  eyes  drawn  toward  the  cottage 
gable,  and  always  to  see  the  same  outline  behind  the 
blinds,  and  the  same  glittering  disks  peering  through 
them. 

Helen  noticed  the  look  of  annoyanoe  on  her  sister's 
face.  "We  are  tiring  you,  Lu,"  she  said.  "But 
don't  look  that  way  about  it !  AVe  will  go  away  at 
once." 

"  Take  me  with  you,  then,  please,"  said  Lucy.  "  I 
have  outstayed  my  time  long  ago,  and  I  believe  I  do 
feel  rather  uncomfortable." 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

A    SPARK    OF    TROPICAL    HEAT. 

WHAT  Mr.  Mac-Allan  saw  with  his  field  glass  on 
that  Monday  afternoon  did  not  increase  his 
peace  of  mind.  The  glass,  being  an  unusually  good 
one,  enabled  him  at  that  distance  to  distinguish  every 
shade  of  expression  on  the  faces  of  the  speakers  whom 
he  was  watching.  He  had  seen  Lucy  take  her  place 
on  the  veranda,  book  in  hand.  He  had  seen  the  minis- 
ter present  himself,  apparently  about  to  go  abroad. 
He  had  marked  the  lighting  up  of  her  face  at  his 
approach,  the  look  of  expostulation,  the  evident  effort 
to  detain  him,  her  gratification  when  he  yielded.  He 
had  watched  the  play  of  feeling  in  each  face,  particu- 
larly Lucy's,  as  the  long  conversation  went  on  ;  the 
smiles,  the  blushes,  the  questioning  glances,  the 
earnest  appeals,  the  occasional  pm.-iveness,  the  in- 
cipient tears.  Ik-  had  seen  Mr.  Austin  rise  to  go, 
and  noted  the  eagerness  with  which  she.-  sought  to 
delay  him,  and  tin-  pleasure  which  she  showed  at  his 
consenting.  Nothing  escaped  the  notice  of  this  excel- 
lent glass.  The  Impossibility  of  hearing  the  conver- 
sation lent  additional  mystery  to  the  looks  and  gestures 

391 


398  THE  JIOCKANOCK  STAGE. 

which  accompanied  it,  and  gave  a  fictitious  significance 
to  really  meaningless  things. 

Here  was  a  pretty  mess  !  This  canting  parson,  who 
had  lectured  him,  MacAllan,  upon  his  duty,  and  made 
such  an  ado  about  the  sacred  ness  of  Lucy's  engage- 
ment, was  himself  alluring  her  toward  its  violation, 
and  with  good  prospect  of  success  !  He  had  evidently 
fascinated  her  already.  Or  had  she  fascinated  him? 
It  looked  more  like  that.  Did  she  not  twice  detain 
him  with  pathetic  entreaties  when  he  was  about  to 
leave  her?  And  did  he  not  seem  like  one  under  a 
spell  that  he  fain  would  break,  but  could  not?  Per- 
haps he  felt  compunctions  about  his  own  engagement, 
and  the  Eastern  girl's  heart  that  he  was  about  to  break. 
But  evidently  he  had  passed  the  point  where  such  con- 
siderations would  much  affect  him. 

The  field  glass  had  followed  the  major's  entrance 
most  critically.  How  would  she  behave  to  him,  after 
all  this  flirtation  with  the  parson?  She  greeted  him 
kindl}7  and  at  once  relapsed  into  her  wonted  propriety. 
She  ceased  her  coquetry  with  the  parson  ;  but  not  one 
touch  of  the  tenderness  she  had  shown  him  was 
evoked  by  her  guardian.  No  blushes,  no  passionate 
glances,  no  incipient  tears  !  It  was  plain  enough  to 
Mr.  MacAllan  how  matters  stood.  She  was  engaged  to 
the  major  and  was  keeping  up  appearances  with  him, 
while  carrying  on  this  impudent  flirtation  with  Austin. 


A    *  TAJIK    OF    TnOPfCAL    HEAT.  399 

"7s  it  a  flirtation?"  he  asked  himself.  "  What  am 
I  to  think  of  her  conduct  toward  me?  If  a  woman 
ever  showed  regard  for  a  man,  she  did  for  me.  And 
now,  when  I  almost  had  my  hand  on  her,  and  she  had 
shown  so  ranch  fondness  for  me  that  I  actually  wished 
she  would  be  more  coy,  so  as  to  give  a  little  zest  to  my 
suit,  off  she  whisks  to  Chicago,  without  a  word  of  her 
intention,  leaving  me  to  be  bulldozed  by  this  hypocrite. 
In  four  days  she  is  back  again,  a  new  creature.  Don't 
know  me  and  never  did.  Declines  to  see  me.  Stays 
at  home  from  church  because  Austin  is  not  to  preach. 
.  very  convenient  cold.  Gets  just  enough  better 
to  make  sure  of  an  uninterrupted  two  hours  with  him, 
and  holds  the  fellow,  in  spite  of  himself,  under  the 
spell  of  her  beauty  and  fascination,  just  as  she  has 
me  !  The  artful  jade  !  " 

That  spark  of  tropical  heat  that  Mr.  MacAllan  had 
within  him  became  a  conflagration,  blazing  and  leap- 
ing through  his  veins  in  streams  of  fire.  He  strode 
up  and  down  his  room,  stamping,  swinging  his  fists 
about,  and  actually  snorting  in  his  rage  like  some 
furious  wild  beast.  He  raved  and  cursed  with  every 
breath.  He  denounced  Lucy  as  a  heartless  flirt,  and 
himself  for  ever  having  looked  at  her.  lie  denounced 
Pack  and  Krauntz  and,  most  of  all,  that  lying, 
invisible  sneak,  the  elder.  He  denounced  the  absurd 
undertaking  into  which  they  had  inveigled  him,  and 


400  THE  KOCh'AXOCK  STAdE. 

which  had  brought  him  only  shame  and  vexation. 
Never  did  it  seem  so  hopeless,  so  insane,  as  now, 
though  it  had  reduced  him  to  beggary.  Again  he 
denounced  himself  for  being  sold  by  these  shysters, 
for  being  duped  by  this  coquette,  and  then  for  not 
seizing  his  opportunity  and  binding  her  to  him  by  a 
promise,  when  he  could  so  easily  have  done  it.  He 
cursed  the  major  for  turning  Lucy  against  him, 
and  the  minister  for  outrivaling  him  in  her  fickle 
regard.  He  wished  that  he  could  murder  them  both, 
and  rather  thought  he  would.  It  was  no  more  than 
they  deserved.  If  they  were  challengeable,  he  would 
give  them  a  chance  to  stand  up  and  be  shot  at  like 
men.  But  a  gouty  old  imbecile  of  sixty  and  a  limp- 
ing parson  —  bah  ! 

They  should  not  escape  his  vengeance,  however, 
though  they  were  ten  times  worse  disabled  than  they 
were.  They  had  done  him  a  wrong  that  had  got  to  be 
atoned  for ;  and  no  age  or  cloth  or  infirmity  should 
protect  them.  What !  would  you  spare  a  vicious  cur 
because  he  was  old  and  cross,  or  a  snake  because  he 
was  scotched  ? 

Mr.  MacAllan's  transport  of  rage  soon  began  to 
abate  through  sheer  exhaustion.  It  was  too  violent  to 
last.  He  tried  hard  to  keep  it  longer  going,  for  noth- 
ing annoys  an  angry  man  more  than  to  find  himself 
getting  over  his  anger.  But  the  fire  burned  lower  and 


A  SPARK  OF   TROPICAL  HEAT.  401 

lower,  and  do  what  be  would,  he  could  not  rekindle  it. 
Indeed,  iutense  passion  of  any  sort  was  not  natural  to 
him.  He  was  a  born  conspirator.  Cunning  and 
deceit,  and  hypocrisy  and  lying,  and  trickery  and 
fraud  and  intrigue  —  these  were  second  nature  to  him, 
and  they  are  correlated,  not  with  outbreaking  anger 
and  deeds'  of  impulse,  but  with  hate  and  slow,  cold- 
blooded revenge.  Mr.  MacAllan  was  an  excellent 
hater,  and  as  vindictive  as  an  Indian.  He  never  for- 
got or  forgave. 

The  mood  which  succeeded  the  conflagration  was 
therefore  calmer  and  more  dangerous.  It  was  also 
more  agreeable  to  himself.  His  anger  had  been  a  fiery 
torture  ;  hatred  and  anticipated  vengeance  brought  a 
certain  fierce  pleasure.  He  could  not  sit  down  yet, 
but  lie  uncliiu-hed  his  hands  and  got  them  into  his 
trousers  pockets.  The  grimace  of  passion  changed 
into  the  scowl  of  malice,  and  finally  into  the  more 
hideous  smile  of  hateful  purpose.  "  I  '11  show  you," 
he  muttered  between  his  teeth,  "  the  kind  of  man 
you  've  waked  up  !  I  '11  give  you  a  taste  of  genuine 
old  Maryland  blood  before  I  Ve  done  with  you  !  " 

His  mind  began  to  work  more  naturally.  lie  must 
plan  a  little;  nay.  a  good  deal  —  an  exercise  always 
agreeable  to  him.  He,  became  fairly  tranquil.  lie  sat 
down.  He  got  one  hand  out  of  his  trousers  and 
stroked  his  beard  with  it  —  short,  nervous  strokes  ut 


402  THE  ROCKAXOCK  STAGE. 

first,  but  growing  gradually  longer  and  more  caressing. 
He  began  to  regain  the  mastery  of  himself,  and  felt 
much  complacency  thereat.  He  had  been  wronged, 
deeply,  basely  wronged,  and  it  had  upset  him  for  a 
moment,  but  only  for  a  moment.  He  was  himself 
again  now,  and  would  arouse  himself  to  meet  the 
situation  and  to  conquer  his  fate. 

First,  here  was  Miss  Darling.  He  had  called  her  a 
heartless  flirt.  But  of  course  he  knew  she  was  neither 
the  one  nor  the  other.  She  was  only  too  artless,  too 
impressible,  too  unsuspecting,  and  had  been  beguiled 
into  a  brief  admiration  for  this  cunning  hypocrite.  It 
would  soon  pass  and  she  would  return  to  her  regard 
for  the  more  eligible  suitor.  He  had  easily  captivated 
her  before,  and  would  do  so  again,  if  he  could  get  the 
chance.  Once  give  him  again  the  vantage  he  had  lost, 
and  lie  would  push  things  to  a  crisis  with  an  impetu- 
osity which  she  could  not  resist.  If  this  proved 
impossible,  and  she  finally  dared  to  reject  him,  then  — 
His  brow  darkened  with  a  purpose  that  he  did  not 
utter. 

As  to  the  major,  nothing  was  to  be  gained  as  yet  by 
hurting  him  or  by  angering  him.  Even  if  one  wanted 
to  spite  him  to  the  utmost,  the  surest  way  to  do  it  was 
to  steal  his  pretty  bride  right  out  of  his  fingers  !  Were 
he  driven  to  disinherit  her,  she  would  be  hardly  worth 
the  stealing,  at  least  to  Mr.  Allan  MacAllau.  "  Un- 


A   SPARK  OF   TROPICAL  HEAT.  403 

endowed  beauty  and  good  manners  have  a  certain 
value,"  said  this  now  composed  philosopher,  "but 
they  would  not  answer  my  purpose.  I  can  do  better, 
and  T  intend  to'." 

Concerning  the  minister,  it  was  harder  to  keep  one's 
temper,  lie  had  evidently  made  all  the  mischief.  He 
had  filled  the  major's  mind  with  suspicion.  He  had 
prejudiced  Miss  Darling  against  MacAllan.  He  had 
captivated  her  with  his  cant  and  his  (lattery.  He 
deserved  no  quarter  and  should  have  none.  He  was 
already  openly  hostile,  and  there  was  nothing  to  lose  by 
attacking  him.  4'  What  sort  of  attack?  that  is  the 
question,"  said  the- avenger.  "  I  might  shoot  him  on 
sight,  and  hang  for  it,  but  that  would  defeat  my  own 
purpoM!  and  give  the  victory  to  my  enemies.  Besides, 
hanging  is,  I  suppose,  unpleasant.  I  might  insult  and 
woiry  him  into  attacking  me,  and  kill  him  in  self- 
defense.  I  might  hire  a  Chicago  plug-ugly  to  come 
out  here  and  do  him  up  quietly.  Or  I  might — yes, 
I  '11  do  that,  anyway.  I  '11  make  this  town  too  hot  to 
hold  him  !  He  came  here  partly  through  my  influence, 
and  through  my  influence  he  shall  go  out  again,  though 
not  as  he  came.  I  '11  give  him  a  name  that  will  blast 
him  like  a  pestilence.  I'll  raise  a  howl  around  him 
that  will  drown  his  miserable  cant  forever.  I'll  turn 
his  church  against  him  till  they  hiss  him  out  of  his  pulpit 
and  slam  the  church  door  in  his  face.  I '11  arouse  the 


404  THE  ItOCKAXOCK  STAGE. 

whole  community  against  him,  and  set  the  very  dogs 
upon  him.  When  that  is  done,  and  he  lias  been 
hooted  out  of  town,  I  will  consider  what  further  retri- 
bution I  owe  him.  The  plug-ugly  dodge,  or  the  shoot- 
ing on  sight,  will  still  be  as  available  as  ever,  and 

% 

considerably  less  dangerous  !  " 

Mr.  MacAllan  rose.  The  conflagration  was  break- 
ing out  afresh.  "One  thing  I  swear,"  he  muttered 
fiercely,  with  fist  uplifted,  "  she  shall  never  marry  any 
man  but  me!  I  '11  kill  her  first ;  and  the  man  with  her, 
whoever  he  is  !  " 

In  the  letter  to  Pack,  which  he  immediately  wrote, 
he  did  not  repeat  this  threat,  or  relate  all  his  mishaps 
or  misgivings.  So  much  truthfulness  at  this  time 
might  alarm  Krauntz  and  the  elder,  and  bring  on  a 
crisis  in  his  finances.  He  referred  to  the  engagement 
as  a  matter  of  current  rumor,  but  to  the  minister  as 
an  unmistakable  and  dangerous  rival,  who  must  some- 
how, by  fair  means  or  by  foul,  be  speedily  gotten  out 
of  the  way.  He  did  not  propose  the  plug-ugly  plan, 
or  the  shooting  on  sight,  but  did  suggest  that  he  began 
to  fear  that  the  minister  was  not  all  that  he  ought  to  be. 
"  If  I  should  find,"  wrote  this  conscientious  man,  "  that 
my  beloved  pastor  is  a  wolf  in  sheep's  clothing,  I  should 
feel  it  my  duty  to  warn  his  flock  against  him,  dear  as  he 
is  to  me.  Perhaps  the  elder  can  look  up  his  record, 
and  relieve  my  mind  of  these  painful  suspicions." 


.1    >7M/,'/f   OF   TEOl'lcAL    III: AT.  405 

Having  despatched  tliis  letter,  lie  sought  Mag-_::e 
Waubcrton  Mini  frightened  ber  with  a  request  for  a 
private  interview.  With  fear  and  trembling  she  al- 
lowed him  to  conduct  her  into  the  best  parlor  and 
close  the  door  after  him.  She  had  always  stood  in 
awe  of  him.  His  fine  clothes,  his  grand  manners,  his 
air  of  superiority  had  impressed  her  from  the  first, 
and  she  had  regarded  him  as  some  sort  of  demigod. 
Hut  this  proceeding  was  astounding.  He  seemed  so 
agitated,  too!  What  could  it  mean? 

11  Mi-s  Maggie,"  he  began  in  a  vehement  fashion, 
4k  I  hardly  know  how  to  say  what  I  wi>h  to  you." 

Mercy!  What  inexpressible  idea  was  he  struggling 
with? 

"  Language  is  so  inadequate,"  he  continued,  "  to 
express  what  the  heart  feels,  what  my  heart  feels  at 
this  moment." 

His  heart?  she  thought;  oh,  what  does  he  mean? 

••  I  am  sure,"  he  went  on,  "  you  cannot  be  ignorant 
of  the  state  of  my  affections,  for  they  have  been  too 
ardent  to  be  concealed." 

This  seemed  unmistakable.  It  could  be  nothing 
less  than  the  preface  to  a  declarai  inn,  ;md  such  a  nice, 
well-turned  preface,  too  ! 

"  Indeed,  Mr.  MaeAllan,"  she  said  in  charming 
confusion,  "  I  knew  you  were  friendly ;  I  did  not 
suspect  anything  more." 


406  THE  EOCKANOCK  STAGE. 

"  Ah,  then,"  he  answered  fervently,  "  you  did  not 
suspect  one  millionth  part  of  the  truth." 

"  O  Mr.  MacAllan  !  "  exclaimed  Maggie,  quite  over- 
whelmed, "  how  extravagantly  you  speak  !  " 

"  Extravagant!  "  he  responded.  "  It  is  impossible 
to  exaggerate  the  charms  of  such  a  creature.  I  have 
seen  a  vast  number  of  beautiful  and  fascinating 
women,  and  have  seen  men  fall  in  adoration  before 
them,  but  -never  before  has  my  heart  been  touched. 
Now  at  last  I  have  found  one  who  fulfills  my  fondest 
dream  of  what  a  perfect  woman  might  be." 

Maggie  sat  speechless  under  this  torrent  of  amorous 
ejaculations.  She  doubted  whether  she  were  not  her- 
self in  a  dream.  It  seemed  incredible  that  a  sane 
man  should  seriously  speak  such  words  to  her ;  and 
something  in  her  warned  her  that  she  had  no  right 
to  appropriate  them  to  herself.  Was  he  insincere? 
Was  he  mocking  her?  Was  he  crazy? 

He  did  not  stop.  "  No  one  knows  so  well  as  you," 
he  said,  "  how  well  she  deserves  my  regard,  for  you 
arc  her  most  intimate  friend ;  and,  by  the  same 
token,  no  one  but  you  can  do  what  is  now  needed  to 
secure  our  happiness.  I  say  our  happiness,  for  I 
believe  that  hers  is  as  absolutely  at  stake  as  my 
own.  Indeed,  that  is  my  only  excuse  for  asking 
your  interference.  I  have  no  claim  on  you,  but 
Miss  Darling  has.  She  loves  and  trusts  you  as  a 


.1    N/M/.'/f   OF   TKOI'K-AL    HEAT.  407 

sister,  and  I  know  you  will  act  a  sister's  part  toward 
her  iu  this  crisis." 

He  had  not  half  finished  this  sentence  before  Mag- 
gie caught  his  real  meaning.  The  gratified  surprise 
with  which  she  had  received  his  earlier  declarations, 
and  the  perturbation,  half  incredulity  and  half  alarm, 
into  which  they  had  thrown  her,  gave  place  to  sensa- 
tions far  less  agreeable.  The  best  parlor  was  one  of 
those  domestic  dungeons  reserved  by  careful  house- 
wives for  the  preservation  of  things  too  good  for  use, 
and  as  dark  as  closed  shutters  and  opaque  curtains 
could  make  it.  It  was  not  too  dark  for  Maggie  as 
she  listened  to  these  sentimental  effusions,  no  longer 
of  doubtful  application.  Shame,  vexation,  resent- 
ment, esteem  for  the  speaker,  sympathy  with  him, 
love  for  Lucy,  unselfish  impulses,  pangs  of  disappoint- 
ment, regrets  for  vanishing  illusions,  gratitude  for  the 
timely  discovery  of  them  —  these  were  some  of  the 
feelings  that  followed  one  another  in  painful  tumult, 
and  set  their  flaming  signals  in  her  face. 

Rut  Mr.  Mac-Allan  was  too  much  absorbed  in  his  own 
schemes  to  pay  any  heed  to  her  face,  even  had  there 
been  light  enough  to  enable  him  to  see  its  expression. 
lie  had  been,  in  a  certain  grand  and  <••  Hug  way, 

very  kind  to  Maggie.  He  had  neglected  no  art  and  no 
opportunity  to  make  a  favorable  impr.-sMon  upon  the 
family,  especially  upon  her,  and  had  .-u-.-eei  d«  <1 


408  THE  XnCKAXt'- 


•r  than  he  had  intended.  His  sole  object  was  to 
secure  her  as  his  ally  in  his  suit  for  the  affections  of 
her  friend.  He  did  not  suspect  how  poor  the  contriv- 
ance was.  or  how  awkwardly  he  had  managed  it. 

He  now-  made  a  direct  appeal  to  Maggie  for  her 
mediation.  He  dilated  upon  the  fervor  of  his  affec- 
tion for  Lucy,  without  whom  he  declared  his  inability 
t<>  exist.  He  dwelt  upon  the  happy  hours  of  their 
intercourse,  repeating,  in  the  strictest  confidence, 
many  of  the  tender  words  which  had  been  spoken, 
with  some  others  which  had  never  been  spoken  at  all. 
He  proved  to  Maggie  conclusively  that  Lucy  cared  for 
him.  and  had  virtually  told  him  so.  over  and  over. 
He  did  not  hint  a  suspicion  of  any  prior  engagement 
or  any  change  of  feeling.  He  made  not  the  remotest 
reference  to  the  major  or  the  minister.  He  merely  said 
that  some  obstacle  seemed  suddenly  to  have  arisen 
between  Miss  Darling  and  himself  ;  that  he  could  not 
get  access  to  her,  and  that  the  agony  and  suspense 
were  killing  him.  Could  not  Maggie  do  something  for 
them  ?  Could  she  not  contrive  a  meeting  for  them  in 
her  own  home  ? 

Maggie  looked  rather  sober  and  showed  some  mis- 
givings about  the  matter.  She  did  not  like  contriv- 
ings.  She  did  not  like  meddling  with  other  people's 
affairs.  Yet  she  gave  a  hesitant  promise  to  do  what 
p^e  conld  that  was  right. 


PARK  or  Ti;f>:  I<-AI.  HEAT.         409 

Mr.  M:icAl  1  her  hand  with  a  profusion  of 

thanks,  calling  her  a  dear,  unselfish  girl,  the  second- 
best  girl  in  the  world,  and  declaring  that  it  now  rested 
with  her  to  make  or  mar  the  happiness  of  two  lives. 
She  did  not  seem  greatly  impressed  by  his  words, 
particularly  by  th<?  second-best  compliment  he  gave 
her  and  drew  her  hand  rather  resentfully  away. 


CHAPTER   XXXI. 

A    THUNDER     CLOUD. 

rriHOUGH  Mr.  Mac-Allan  had  menaced  the  Fates 
-*-  and  made  alliance  with  the  Graces,  his  plans 
fared  but  poorly  as  the  September  days  went  all  too 
quickly  away.  Lucy  was  soon  about  again  in  wonted 
health  and  spirits.  He  saw  her  sitting  on  the  veranda 
or  gathering  flowers  iu  the  garden,  and  if  distance  did 
not  lend  her  enchantment,  it  gave  him  abundant 
aggravation. 

The  field  glass  was  all  that  a  glass  could  be,  bring- 
ing the  sweet  face  near  to  him  and  showing  him  a 
bewitching  grace,  yet  with  its  best  meant  efforts  it 
afforded  him  more  annoyance  than  satisfaction. 

Interviews  seemed  unattainable.  He  did  not  like  to 
risk  another  rebuff  by  making  a  formal  call  until  he 
had  first  secured  recognition  by  a  more  casual  meet- 
ing. But  how  was  he  to  secure  a  casual  meeting? 
At  home  some  of  the  family  were  always  about. 
Abroad  she  was  always  attended.  If  they  chanced 
to  pass  each  other  upon  the  street,  he  sainted  her 
after  the  manner  of  a  privileged  friend,  and  she 
returned  the  salutation  after  the  manner  of  an  ordi- 

410 


A    THUNDER   CLOUD.  411 

nary  acquaintance.  It  was  the  most  trying  course 
that  she  couM  have  adopted.  The  neutrality  of  feel- 
ing that  -she  exhibited,  or  rather  the  absence  of  feeling, 
was  harder  to  bear  than  actual  repulsion.  If  she 
would  openly  cut  him,  or  even  scorn  and  spite  him,  it 
would  show  that  she  thought  of  him;  it  would  be  say- 
ing :  "  Sir,  you  once  were  dear  to  me,  but  the  happy 
divam  i>  past."  Then  he  might  hope  to  regain  his 
l.isi  position.  But  to  act  as  if  he  never  had  a  position, 
as  if  there  were  no  dream  and  no  past,  that  was  in- 
tolerable. 

Once,  to  his  great  joy,  he  met  her  alone,  just  as  she 
was  entering  the  gate,  and  greeted  her  with  irrepressi- 
ble cordiality.  "  Now,"  >ai<l  lie  to  himself,  "  we  shall 
to  an  understanding."  She  seemed  not  dis- 
pleased to  see  him  ;  gave  him  her  hand  in  the  old, 
friendly  way;  chatted  freely  of  the  weather  and  other 
indifferent  topics,  hut  made  not  the  faintest  sign  of 
special  regard.  lie  inquired  anxiously  after  her  health. 
She  was  perfectly  well,  thank  you.  Would  she  ride 
with  him  after  t«  a  ?  She  had  promised  to  go  out  with 
the  major.  To-morrow  evening  then?  It  was  prayer- 
meeting  night.  The  next  day:  It  would  be  rehearsal 
evening.  When  would  bhe  go  with  him?  Really,  she 
did  not  see  how  she  could  make  a  definite  appointment. 
Jt  was  all  so  pleasantly,  sweetly,  smilingly  spoken, 
as  if  she  \\ire  meivly  stating  plans  that  had  IT.  n 


412  THE  ROCKAXOt  K  STAGE. 

formed  from  eternity  without  reference  to  him,  and 
without  the  slightest  effort  of  her  own  choice,  that  for 
a  moment  he  knew  not  what  to  say  or  think. 

Then  he  rallied  himself  for  an  outburst  of  passion- 
ate remonstrance.  He  would  have  it  out  with  her  then 
and  there.  He  would  know  the  reason  of  her  changed 

O 

behavior,  and  she  should  know  how  unchanged  and 
unchangeable  were  his  feelings.  But  she  was  before 
him,  by  the  smallest  fraction  of  a  second,  with  her 
pretty  commonplaces.  How  charming  the  autumn 
weather  was !  and  had  he  noticed  the  early  changing 
of  the  foliage?  and  wasn't  it  delightful  to  have  long 
evenings  again?  and  did  he  know  that  the  Mendelssohn 
Quintette  was  coming?  Without  seeming  effort  or 
intention  she  brought  the  conversation  to  the  point 
where  he  could  do  neither  less  nor  more  than  wish  her 
a  reluctant  good  evening,  and  take  himself  off.  Home 
he  went,  in  a  furious  passion,  which  he  worked  off  in 
his  usual  high-tragedy  fashion. 

Maggie  had  made  little  progress  with  her  diplomacy, 
though  the  poor  girl  had  gone  conscientiously  enough 
about  it.  She  had  tried  to  open  conversation  with 
Lucy  upon  the  matter,  but  showed  so  much  embarrass- 
ment and  timidity  that  Lucy  grew  suspicious  and  de- 
manded explanations.  Whereupon  the  stammering 
diplomat  burst  into  tears,  which  brought  a  more  imper- 
ative demand  for  explanation,  which  called  forth  more 


A   TlIUXHEIi   CLOUD.  413 

copious  weeping,  till  kisses  and  clinging  arms  holding 
her  fast,  ami  a  warm  cheek  pressed  to  her  brow,  and 
low,  soft,  motherly  sooth'mgs  murmured  in  her  ear 
brought  the  smiles  back  again  —  a  faint  sunshine  after 
rain.  Then  the  subject  was  dismissed,  and  never 
again  alluded  to  between  them. 

Maggie's  report  to  Mr.  MacAllan  did  not  include  an 
account  of  this  scene,  but  it  was  received  by  him  as 
altogether  discouraging,  and  ended  his  expectation  of 
help  from  that  quarter.  "  Evidently,"  said  he,  "she 
is  not  up  to  that  sort  of  thing.  I  have  again  given 
myself  away  to  no  purpose." 

A  letter  from  Pack  yielded  some  grains  of  comfort : 

"  We  have  looked  up  the  parson's  record,  the  elder 
and  me,  and  I  regret  to  find  that  your  worst  fears  are 
confirmed.  In  fact,  my  dear  boy,  we  've  got  the  drop 
on  him  !  There  will  soon  be  something  peculiar  in  the 
Rockby  atmosphere.  Look  out  for  it.  But  don't  you 
stir  openly  in  the  matter.  Don't  you  breathe  a  word, 
or  make  a  sign.  If  you  hear  anything  scandalous,  be 
piously  shocked  at  it,  and  very  reluctant  to  believe  it. 
We  '11  handle  the  thing.  Let  us  alone.  We  '11  put 
Rev.  Mr.  Wolf  in  a  way  to  shed  his  sheep's  clothing 
in  a  hurry." 

That  was  consoling.  If  attraction  failed  him,  re- 
pulsion might  answer  his  purpose  equally  well.  To 


414  TI1E  EOCKANOCK  STAGE. 

drive  the  minister  away  from  Lucy  was  at  least  the 
next  best  thing  to  drawing  her  away  from  him.  The 
letter  went  on  :  — 

"There 's  a  new  wrinkle  in  the  Ottway  business,  and 
a  mighty  bad  one,  and  one  that  we  can't  understand. 
Somebody  has  been  furnishing  them  farmers  money. 
Every  mortgage  that  Krauntz  held  that  is  now  payable 
has  been  paid  in  full,  including  not  only  those  that  are 
past  due,  which  he  was  just  about  to  foreclose,  but 
those  that  were  made  payable  '  on  or  before '  a  future 
date.  Every  last  one  of  them  has  been  paid,  and  pay- 
ment has  been  tendered  on  some  that  don't  read  that 
way.  Of  course  we  refused  that.  But  where  did 
these  beggarly  grangers  get  their  money  ?  That  's 
what  we  want  to  know.  You  go  to  the  county  records 
and  see  if  they  throw  any  light  on  these  new  loans ; 
for  of  course  it  means  loans  and  nothing  else,  and 
loans  mean  fresh  mortgages.  You  don't  need  to  tell 
what  you  are  after.  Your  business  as  a  real-estate 
broker  is  a  sufficient  cover.  Another  thing :  see  if 
you  can  find  out  who  has  bought  up  the  Dan  Mullen 
place.  I  can't.  It  seems  to  be  a  secret,  and  like  as 
not  the  deed  is  n't  recorded.  See  if  it  is.  We  thought 
we  had  the  deadwood  on  Dan.  We  are  moving  right 
along  with  the  business,  and  the  cloud  is  rolling  up 
fast  and  big  and  black.  You  '11  hear  thunder  in  it 


A    THUNDER   CLOUD,  415 

before  long.  As  to  that  beloved  pastor  of  yours, 
we  '11  put  a  small  cloud  on  him  too.  Should  n't  wonder 
if  he  heard  thunder  himself." 

The  evil  report  thus  exultantly  predicted  came  too 
soon.  Indeed  it  was  already  in  Rockby.  Rumors  be- 
gan to  be  blown  about  derogatory  to  the  character  of 
Mr.  Austin.  At  first  they  were  very  general  and  very 
vague,  and  came  to  the  ears  of  persons  already  preju- 
diced against  him  ;  that  he  was  no  better  than  he  ouglit 
to  be  ;  that  he  had  left  the  East  under  a  cloud  ;  that 
there  were  people  there  whom  he  would  not  like  to 
meet ;  that  there  were  things  behind  him  about  which 
the  less  said  the  better,  and  so  on.  Nobody  seemed 
to  know  the  source  of  these  rumors.  They -were  in  the 
atmosphere,  as  Mr.  Pack  had  predicted  they  would  be. 
Nobody  knew  the  proof  of  them,  or  sought  to  know 
whether  there  were  any.  It  was  mysteriously  hinted  that 
witnesses  could  be  had  when  wanted.  At  present  they 
\vere  not  wanted.  Infidels  and  scoffers  seized  greedily 
upon  the  scandal.  It  was  just  what  they  had  always 
believed.  Religion  was  only  a  cloak  for  wickedness. 

Those  who  were  thus  favored  with  the  first  edition 
of  the  rumor  felt  themselves  under  obligation  not  only 
to  pass  it  along  to  their  neighbors,  but  to  enrich  it  with 
details  and  specifications  of  their  own  devising,  which, 
of  course,  were  accepted  by  the  next  listeners  as  parts 


416  THE  EOCKANOCK  STAGE. 

of  the  original.  In  this  way  an  elaborate  and  con- 
sistent tale  was  soon  in  circulation,  and  such  a  one  as, 
had  it  been  one  half  truth,  should  have  consigned  the 
minister  to  the  penitentiary. 

Mr.  MacAllan  received  it  with  the  incredulity  and 
holy  horror  recommended  by  his  attorney.  He  could 
not  believe  it,  he  said.  Mr.  Austin  had  been  to  him 
the  incarnation  of  virtue,  the  synonym  of  rectitude  ;  a 
weak  man,  perhaps,  but  not  bad.  Oh,  no,  not  bad  ;  a 
man  organically  subject  to  strong  temptations,  as  any 
one  could  see,  but  not  such  a  villain  as  all  this ;  a 
secretive,  uncommunicative  man,  about  whose  previ- 
ous history  little  was  known,  but  not  a  base  deceiver 
and  reprobate.  No,  if  these  things  proved  true,  Mr. 
MacAllan  would  lose  faith  in  all  virtue  whatever. 

The  friends  of  Mr.  Austin,  among  whom  were  num- 

•V 

bered  the  greater  part  of  his  congregation,  and,  with  a 
possible  exception  or  two,  the  entire  membership  of 
his  church,  were  as  shocked  and  incredulous  as  Mr. 
MacAllan  pretended  to  be.  At  first  they  flung  the 
story  from  them  with  a  contemptuous  Pish-sli-sh  !  and 
a  snap  of  the  fingers.  When  they  found  that  it  would 
not  subside  at  such  rebuke,  they  became  indignant, 
and  said  some  things  about  its  authors  and  propagators 
not  recommended  in  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount. 

It  soon  grew  to  be  a  tremendous  sensation,  and  the 
question,  What  should  be  done  about  it?  became  a 


A    THUNDER   CLOUD.  417 

serious  one.  Some  advocated  immediate  action,  de- 
fensive and  aggressive  —  investigation,  prosecution 
of  the  calumniators,  and  so  forth.  These  persons, 
naturally,  did  nothing,  except  to  marvel  each  at  the 
inertia  of  the  rest.  Others  maintained  that  the  thing 
should  not  be  touched  or  talked  about,  but  be  quietly 
ignored.  They,  of  course,  discussed  it  incessantly, 
proving  to  each  other,  by  copious  argument,  and  the 
citation  of  numerous  examples,  that  for  such  slanders 
silence  is  the  only  cure. 

Little  by  little  the  seriousness  of  the  situation  forced 
itself  upon  the  attention  of  the  most  loyal  and  dis- 
creet of  Mr.  Austin's  parishioners.  The  officers  of 
the  church  held  anxious  consultations.  Ought  the 
church  to  take  notice  of  the  matter?  Ought  the  pastor 
to  be  informed  of  the  reports  in  circulation,  and  be 
afforded  opportunity  to  make  any  statement  or  ex- 
planation? On  the  last  point  there  was  a  pretty  unani- 
mous opinion  in  the  affirmative.  "He  is  sure  to  meet  it 
sooner  or  later,"  said  Deacon  Wauberton,  "  and  prob- 
ably sooner,  and  he  ought  n't  to  be  let  run  against  it  in 
the  dark." 

"  I  think  so,  too,  deacon,"  said  Dr.  Ashley. 
"  It's  a  cruel  thing  to  do,  telling  him;  but  if  he  must 
be  told,  and  lie  must,  it  is  better  that  he  take  it  from 
his  friends  than  from  his  enemies.  Who'll  tell  him?" 

All  agreed  (hat  Dr.    Ashley    was    the    fittest   man 


418  THE  EOCKANOCK  STAGE. 

for  the  task.  "You  know  him  best,"  said  Deacon 
Lorimer.  "  He  likes  you,  and  he  knows  you  like  him. 
Besides,  you  are  used  to  handling  the  knife,  and  you 
can  do  it  without  killing  him,  if  anybody  can." 

"I  suppose  it  is  my  duty,"  sighed  the  doctor,  "  be- 
cause it  is  disagreeable ;  but  I  would  rather  cut  the 
poor  fellow's  leg  off;  the  lame  one,  at  any  rate." 

Many  days  had  elapsed  since  the  first  appearance 
of  the  slander  before  this  conclusion  was  reached. 
The  story  had  grown  and  spread  as  only  such  stories 
can.  Some,  who  had  at  first  scouted  it  as  preposter- 
ous, were  yielding  to  the  force  of  its  pertinacity.  It 
is  always  easier  to  believe  a  thing  than  to  disbelieve  it, 
infinitely  easier  than  denial.  "  If  it  is  n't  true," 
they  said,  "  how  did  it  come  here?  There  's  no  great 
smoke  without  some  fire  !  " 

"  Smoke  your  granny,"  said  Lezer  to  one  of  these 
dealers  in  proverbial  sophistry.  "  Why  don't  ye  say 
black  ain't  white  ?  'T  would  be  jest  as  much  to  the 
p'int.  Do  ye  s'pose  ye  kin  prove  anything  jest  by 
savin'  over  a  line  outer  yer  old  copybook?  Folks 
that  ha'n't  no  brains,  or  is  too  lazy  to  use  'em,  fill  up 
the  holler  where  they  oughter  be  with  these  here  old 
dried  chunks  o'  last  year's  sense.  Provvubs  is  prov- 
vubs,  and  well  enough  in  the'r  place ;  but  it  takes 
more  jeenyus  ter  kuow  how  ter  use  'em,  'u  ever  it  did 
to  make  'em." 


A    'IIIl'\Dlh    *-t<>UD.  419 

"  Show  us  how  to  use  them,  then,"  retorted  the 
adage-monger,  "  if  you  understand  it  so  much  better 
than  other  people." 

"  I  don't  say  es  I  'd  use  'em  at  all.  I  druther  have 
an  ounce  o'  good,  fresh,  live  sense,  'n  a  cartload  o* 
yer  old  gabble." 

"Well,  show  up  your  sense,  then.  How  do  you 
account  for  smoke  if  not  by  fire  ?  " 

"  Account  fer  smoke  !  Whuddoo  I  care  fer  smoke? 
The  fire  's  what  I  wanter  account  fer ;  that  is,  arter 
I  've  put  it  out.  When  I  see  smoke  a-pouriu'  outer 
my  shed,  las'  Jenooary,  I  did  n't  stan'  round  recitin' 
provvubs.  I  jest  buckled  to  'n'  put  it  out ;  'n'  then  I 
went  ter  huntin'  round  fer  the  feller  that  sot  it." 

"  Do  you  think  this  is  the  work  of  an  incendiary?" 

"  I  don't  think  nothin'  about  it ;  I  know  it." 

"Perhaps  you  're  acquainted  with  him." 

"Perhaps  I  be,  'n'  perhaps  I  a'n't;  but  I'll  tell  ye 
what  I  think  :  if  I  hed  arms  a  quarter  uv  a  mile  long, 
I  could  put  my  hands  onto  him  this  miuit!  that's  what 
J  think." 

"Why  don't  you  do  it  then?  " 

"  Dunno  but  what  I  may  yit." 

But  notwithstanding  Lezer's  sturdy  defense  of  the 
minister's  reputation,  and  notwithstanding  the  unfal- 
tering loyalty  of  hosts  of  other  friends,  the  wicked 
st  >ry  steadily  gained  credence,  even  among  well-mean- 


420  THE  EOCKANOCK  STAGE. 

ing  people.  From  time  to  time  fresh  particulars  were 
added,  as  the  scandal-loving  mind  seemed  ready  to 
receive  them.  At  first  the  offenses  charged  had  re- 
ferred only  to  the  period  of  Mr.  Austin's  residence  at 
the  East.  Next  it  was  affirmed  that  they  had  been 
repeated  at  Chicago,  both  before  and  since  his  advent 
in  Rockby.  Twice  or  thrice  he  had  made  flying  trips 
to  that  city,  ostensibly  on  business  or  to  visit  friends. 
Now  it  was  easy  to  see  what  friends  and  what  busi- 
ness !  Finally,  it  was  boldly  declared  that  his  course 
of  wickedness  had  been  continued  even  in  Rockby, 
and  by  favor  of  his  official  position. 

Little  of  all  this  reached  the  ears  of  Lucy,  and  that 
little  only  of  the  vaguest  character.  If  she  had  any 
acquaintances  among  those  who  were  promulgating 
the  scandal,  there  were  none  vulgar  enough  to  insult 
her  with  its  recital ;  while  those  who  composed  the 
party  of  defense  had  no  occasion  to  take  her  into  their 
counsels.  It  was  not  a  matter  for  a  girl  like  her  to 
deal  with.  When  the  first  hint  of  some  indefinite 
trouble  connected  with  her  pastor  reached  her,  she 
flew  to  Helen  for  explanation.  But  she  only  learned 
that  Mr.  Austin  had  enemies,  who  were  seeking  to 
destroy  his  reputation  by  circulating  vile  lies  about 
him.  From  these  generalities,  and  from  Helen's  blaz- 
ing cheeks,  and  from  the  instinctive  loathing  which  the 
words  awakened  in  her,  she  knew  that  they  meant 
something  too  evil  for  her  to  hear  or  think. 


A    TIU'XDER   CLOUD.  421 

That  night  the  soft,  brown  ferns  in  the  carpet  pattern 
on  her  chamber  floor  were  strangely  trodden ;  not  by 
the  buoyant,  girlish  steps  which  they  knew  so  well, 
but  by  feet  that  trampled  them  in  anger,  or  dragged 
over  them  in  weary  sorrow,  till  miles  on  miles  had 
been  measured. 

"  O  God  !  "  she  cried  ;  "  that  this  awful  blow  should 
fall  upon  him,  and  that  I  cannot  so  much  as  speak  to 
him,  or  make  him  one  little  sign  of  sympathy  !  " 

She  did  not  know  that  in  a  distant  room  he  was  even 
then  meeting  the  first  terrible  shock  of  the  trial.  Dr. 
Ashley  had  frit  that  the  revelation  could  not  longer  be 
delayed,  and  had  performed  his  cruel  task  as  kindly 
ami  a-,  -killfully  as  it  could  be  done.  What  took  place 
during  the  four  hours  which  he  spent  in  Mr.  Austin's 
room  he  did  not  tell,  even  to  Helen  ;  but  he  could  not 
recall  the  interview  without  a  shudder.  Never  had  he 
seen  a  man  in  such  agony.  Never  had  he  seen  a  great 
trial  more  heroically  met.  So  soon  as  the  first  over- 
whelming shock  of  it  was  over,  the  brave  fellow  mas- 
tered himself  and  grappled  with  his  fate.  No  lie 
should  conquer  him,  he  said,  or  destroy  his  usefulness. 
So  far  as  it  affected  him  personally  he  would  meet  it 
with  such  strength  as  God  should  give  him.  either  to 
disarm  his  adversaries,  or  to  bear  the  worst  that  they 
could  do  to  him.  Why  should  he  wonder  at  such  an 
attack?  Had  not  slander  been,  time  out  of  mind,  the 


422  TEE  EOCKAXOCK  STAGE. 

weapon  of  malice,  and  could  he  expect  to  escape  its 
assault?  "Was  he  better  than  saints  and  prophets,  or 
greater  than  his  Lord  ? 

At  midnight  the  two  men  parted.  As  they  stood  a 
moment  clasping  each  other's  hands,  the  doctor  said, 
"  Keep  a  brave  heart,  my  dear  fellow ;  you  may  live  to 
thank  God  for  this  trial." 

"I  thank  him  for  one  of  its  fruits  already,"  replied 
the  minister,  tightening  his  grasp  upon  the  two  hands 
that  he  held  in  his  own.  "  It  has  shown  me  a  quality 
of  friendship  that  will  make  me  richer  all  my  life." 

"Your  friends  will  not  fail  you,"  responded  the 
doctor.  "  You  may  count  on  them  for  unlimited 
trust,  and  for  any  service  within  the  bounds  of  possi- 
bility." 

"  If  I  had  only  you,  doctor,  I  should  feel  strong." 

"  You  have  me ;  you  have  every  soul  under  this 
roof,  and  you  have  scores  of  houses  full  of  friends  as 
staunch  and  true  as  God  ever  made." 

"  It  is  enough  then,"  answered  the  minister;  "  all 
will  be  well." 

"  And  now,"  said  the  doctor  in  departing,  "I  have 
been  playing  surgeon  with  you,  and  have  cut  you  to 
pieces  and  got  you  sewed  together  again  after  a  fashion. 
I  am  going  to  prescribe  for  you  and  you  must  follow 
directions  strictly.  Will  3-011  do  it?" 

"  Yes,  sir.     What  are  they?" 


.1    T1IUM>KR    <'LOri>.  423 

"  Read  the  Ninety-first  Psalm,  say  your  prayers, 
and  go  to  bed ;  promise  me  you  will." 

"  I  will." 

"  And  go  straightway  to  sleep,  too.  You  will  need 
t<>  keep  yourself  in  good  lighting  condition  for  a  long 
time  yet.  Good  uight." 

kt  Good  night  and  God  bless  you,  dear  friend." 

Mrs.  Ashley  had  not  yet  closed  her  eyes.  "  Well?  " 
she  said  as  the  doctor  entered. 

"  It  was  an  awful  piece  of  work,  Helen,"  he  said, 
dropping  into  a  chair. 

••Poor  Tom!  You  always  have  to  do  the  hard 
things.  How  did  he  bear  it?" 

"Hear  it!  I've  seen  heroic  physical  endurance 
under  the  knife  ;  I  never  saw  moral  heroism  till  to- 
night. But  I  want  you  to  go  and  see  what  is  the 
matter  with  Lu.  Her  light  is  burning  and  I  heard 
sounds  in  her  room  as  I  came  by.  I  almost  thought  I 
heard  moaning.  Go  and  see,  please." 

"There  is  no  need  of  going,  Tom.  I  know  what  it 
is,  and  it  is  something  that  you  and  I  cannot  mend. 
Poor  child!  let  her  alone."  Mrs.  Ashley  related 
what  had  passed  between  her  sistei  and  herself  that 
evening.  "  If  you  had  seen  her  face,  Tom,  you 
wouldn't  wonder  at  her  wakefulness  or  the  moans, 
either.  I  could  n't  sleep  myself,  and  she  has  more 
sensibility  in  a  minute  than  I  have  in  a  year." 


424  TIIE  ROCKANOCK  STAGE. 

"  All  the  more,  then,  she  ought  to  sleep.  Do  you  go 
and  make  her  go  to  bed  as  I  have  made  Austin. 
Come,  I  '11  send  her  the  same  prescription  I  gave  him." 
The  doctor  repeated  it.  "  Take  it  to  her,  dear,  there  's 
a  good  girl.  Or  must  I  go  with  it  myself?  " 

"  You  shall  neither  go  nor  persuade  me  to.  I  know 
her  better  than  you,  Tom,  and  I  tell  you  she  must  be 
let  alone.  Your  prescription  is  excellent  for  a  man. 
Take  it  yourself." 

He  did  so. 


(  I1APTKK     XXXII. 

TH  K     S  IL  V  KR     PITC  II  KK  . 

WIIKX  the  chambermaid  came  to  Lucy's  room 
the  next  morning,  >he  started  with  an  ex- 
cluiiKition  of  surprise.  The  bed  was  untouched,  sav- 
ing that  on  its  nearer  edge  an  arch-shaped  impression 
could  lie  faintly  traced,  as  if  two  anus  had  rested 
there,  with  the  hands  tightly  clasped.  The  space 
enclosed  was  indented  and  moist  to  the  touch.  "  Ah, 
worra,  worra  !  "  cried  the  girl,  "whativer  is  the  mainiu' 
o'  this  !  " 

Breakfast  threatened  to  be  an  embarrassing  occasion. 
Mrs.  Ashley,  with  her  usual  faith  in  the  trauquilixing 
influence  of  the  physical  senses,  had  made  the  table 
unusually  attractive,  with  flowers  and  dainty  furnish- 
ings, and  the  delicacies  of  the  season.  Yet  she 
seemed  to  find  it  peculiarly  diilicult  to  keep  the  ta I- It- 
talk  going  ;  while  the  doctor  made  so  obvious  an  effort 
to  be  voluble,  that  he  was  like  to  kill  conversation 
through  over-driving. 

Mr.  Austin,  never  a  ready  talker,  felt  the  general 
tendency  to  silence  all  the  more  sensibly  because  it 
referred  to  him.  Yet  he  wore  a  look  of  repose  and 

485 


426  THE  ItOCKAXOCK  STAGE. 

courage  which  some  who  watched  his  face  were  grati- 
fied to  see. 

The  major  had  not  participated  in  the  anxieties  of 
the  previous  night,  though  aware  of  the  cause  of 
them,  and  holding  views  on  the  subject  entirely  com- 
plimentary to  the  minister.  He  had  long  ago  ceased 
to  regard  Dudley  Austin  as  a  poky  chap.  But  he 
detected  the  pokiness  of  the  entire  household  this 
morning  and  was  annoyed  by  it.  And  whether  from 
its  infectiousness,  or  from  some  other  cause,  he  felt 
himself  more  than  poky.  He  was  oppressed  with  a 
languor  which  he  could  neither  explain  nor  overcome. 
To  escape  attention  he  ate  a  few  morsels,  though  with 
strong  repugnance,  wishing  himself  back  in  bed. 

Lucy  was  the  last  to  appear  at  the  table,  and  the 
least  affected,  apparently,  by  the  prevailing  depression. 
She  was  pale,  very  pale  for  her,  and  great  purple  lines 
•were  drawn  under  her  eyes.  Yet  her  face  was  radiant 
when  she  spoke,  and  strangely  peaceful  when  in 
repose.  Never  had  what  Ned  called  the  "  light  in- 
side" shone  more  luminously.  There  was  no  more 
lagging  of  conversation  after  her  arrival.  She  praised 
the  autumn  weather,  the  asters  and  golden-rod  on  the 
table,  the  delicate  rolls,  the  delicious  grapes.  She 
inquired  of  the  doctor  concerning  a  critical  case  he 
was  attending,  and  bantered  him  about  a  technical 
term  he  employed  on  purpose  to  tease  her.  She 


THE   SILVER   PITCHER.  427 

reminded  the  major  of  the  drive  they  had  planned  to 
take  together.  She  spoke  with  Mr.  Austin  of  the 
book  he  had  lent  her,  resuming  the  subject  where  they 
had  left  it  yesterday,  and  even  held  him  sharply  in 
discussion  over  a  point  in  controversy  between  them. 
She  chatted  with  Ned  about  slingshots,  and  with 
Margie  about  dolls'  tea  parties.  All  this  she  did  with 
no  apparent  effort,  and  without  seeming  to  be  con- 
scious of  any  occasion  for  effort,  but  as  if  merely 
yielding  to  a  natural  exuberance  of  spirits. 

When  Mr.  Austin  returned  to  his  room  he  found 
upon  his  table  a  slender  little  pitcher  of  silver,  no 
bigger  than  one  of  his  lingers,  with  a  bunch  of  helio- 
trope and  a  spray  of  sinilax  in  it.  The  smilax  was 
deftly  drawn  around  the  side  of  the  pitcher,  so  as  to 
hide  with  its  leaves  the  monogram  of  the  owner. 
Through  the  tiny  handle  was  thrust  a  bit  of  folded 
paper,  on  which  was  written,  "  Satan  hath  desired  to 
have  you,  that  he  may  sift  you  as  wheat :  but  I  have 
prayed  for  thee,  that  thy  faith  fail  not."  She  had 
found  a  way  to  signal  her  sympathy  to  him,  and  to 
k.-ep  watch  with  him  in  his  trial,  though  her  lips  were 
sealed. 

As  he  bent  over  the  purple  blossom,  something 
that  was  not  dew  dropped  and  glistened  among  its 
petals.  He  smoothed  out  the  bit  of  paper,  and  laying 
it  reverently  between  the  leaves  of  his  Bible,  sat  down 


428  THE  ROCKANOCK  STAGE. 

to  his  work.  A  faint  perfume  clung  to  his  fingers  as 
he  wrote,  and  a  sense,  as  of  the  ministry  of  angels, 
filled  his  heart  with  peace. 

Before  he  had  fairly  begun  the  next  page  of  his 
unfinished  sermon,  the  major  called  upon  him,  as  he 
had  frequently  done  of  late.  His  calls  were  always 
welcome,  though  he  had  a  genius  for  selecting  the 
most  inconvenient  time  for  them,  as  unprofessional 
callers  upon  ministers  are  apt  to  do.  At  this  moment 
Mr.  Austin  was  especially  glad  to  see  him,  and  laid 
down  his  pen  with  alacrity. 

"This  is  a  great  pleasure,"  he  said.  "Take  the 
easy-chair;  I  believe  you  have  a  liking  for  it." 

"If  you  don't  mind,"  said  the  major,  making  his 
way  toward  the  lounge,  "I  will  lie  down.  There! 
What  a  lazy  dog  I  am  getting  to  be  !  "  he  said  with  a 
sigh  of  weariness,  stretching  himself  at  full  length. 

"  I  don't  believe  it,"  replied  the  minister.  "  You 
are  not  lazy  ;  you  are  unwell." 

"Draw  your  chair  a  little  nearer,  please,"  said  the 
major;  "I  have  something  very  particular  to  say  to 
you." 

"  Certainly,"  said  the  minister,  seating  himself 
before  his  visitor. 

"Austin,"  said  the  major,  "  I  want  to  ask  a  favor 
of  you."  . 

"Thereby  you  would  do  me  one,"  responded  the 
minister. 


THE  SILVER  riTCUER.  429 

"I  want  you  to  let  me  help  you  punish  the  scoun- 
drels that  have  put  up  this  job  on  you." 

Mr.  Austin  colored.  "  That  is  very  kind  of  you, 
sir,"  he  said,  "  but  at  present  we  don't  even  know  who 
they  are." 

"  But  I  mean  to  find  out.  I  am  on  a  scoundrel 
hunt  myself,  the  biggest  kind  of  one,  and  this  will  be 
right  in  my  line.  Besides,  I  should  n't  be  surprised  to 
find  that  the  frauds  I  am  on  the  track  of  and  this 
infernal  conspiracy  against  you  come  from  the  same 
shop." 

The  minister  looked  keenly  at  his  guest,  but  not  like 
a  man  struck  with  a  new  idea.  "  I  thank  you  for 
your  interest  in  me,"  he  said,  "  and  for  your  kind 
wishes."  He  did  not  thank  him  for  the  confidence  in 
his  integrity  implied  by  the  proposition.  He  could  not 
yet  imagine  any  one  who  knew  him  believing  the 
slander. 

41 1  am  interested  in  you,"  said  the  major,  "  but 
this  is  not  a  case  which  involves  your  interests  alone." 

"  No,  sir.  It  involves  the  interests  of  the  church 
and  of  religion.  That  is  the  worst  aspect  of  tin-  case 
to  me." 

"I  haven't  thought  so  much  about  thai;  and  I 
don't  believe  a  few  lies  are  going  to  upset  Christianity. 
But  if  hurting  you  is  going  to  injure  the  cause,  the 
best  way  to  undo  the  injury  is  to  vindicate  you.  Of 


430  THE  KOCKANOCK  STAGE. 

course,  remove  the  cause  and  you  remove  the  effect. 
That 's  good  logic,  I  guess." 

"  Experience  does  not  always  confirm  it,  though." 

"  Well,  that  isn't  the  point.  The  point  is  that  this 
thing  involves  other  interests  than  yours.  It-4nvolves 
the  interests  of  your  friends.  It  involves  the  interests 
of  this  family,  some  members  of  it  especially,  more 
than  you  know.  It  involves  my  interests  more  thau 
you  begin  to  know." 

"  You  are  most  generous  to  say  so,  sir." 

"  No,  I  'm  not !  It 's  pure  selfishness  in  me  ;  but  I 
mean  it  all  the  same.  I  am  a  childless  old  man,  and 
I  have  to  revenge  myself  on  my  fate  by  playing  daddy 
to  other  people's  children.  I  've  been  daddy  to  these 
two  girls,  especially  to  Lucy;  and  I've  made  up  my 
mind  to  be  daddy  to  you  !  Your  father  is  n't  living?" 

"  No,  sir." 

u  Nor  your  mother?  " 

"  No,  sir." 

"  Any  big  brothers?  " 

"  No,  sir,  nor  little  ones." 

"  Well,  then,  I  here  and  hereby  constitute  myself 
father  and  big  brother  to  you  ;  do  you  hear?  And  if 
you  don't  obey  me,  I  '11  thrash  you  till  you  do  !  " 

"  I  have  noticed  your  system  of  government  over 
Miss  Darling,"  said  the  minister,  laughing,  "  and  think 
it  quite  endurable." 


THE  sii.vi:i;  /•/•/'  ///•:/,'.  431 

"  You  need  n't  laugh,"  retorted  the  major.  "  I  am 
entirely  serious,  and  I  expect  you  to  be.  I  propose  to 
see  these  liars  put  through,  and  you  've  got  to  help 
me." 

"  I  h§ve  no  wish  to  revenge  myself  on  them,"  said 
the  minister,  "  but  I  shall  be  ghid  to  vindicate  my 
character  before  the  community,  and  prevent  further 
injury  to  the  cause  of  religion." 

"The  best  way  to  prevent  further  injury  from  a 
mad  dog  is  to  knock  him  on  the  head  !  Don't  you 
w:i>te  any  loving-kindness  on  these  rapscallions;  and 
don't  h-l  them  ding  mud  all  over  you,  or  pull  your 
church  down  about  your  ears.  Just  go  for  'em ! 
You  've  got  backbone ;  and  you  believe  in  a  religion 
that 's  got  backbone  in  it.  Now  show  it.  Go  for 
'em,  I  >:iy.  and  I  '11  back  you  for  all  I'm  worth.  I  've 
written  to  my  lawyers  about  it  already,  and  I  am  going 
iiicago  to  see  them  next  week.  They  '11  know 
what  to  do,  and  you  and  I  must  follow  their  advice. 
Krrp  your  eyes  open,  and  wherever  you  see  a  head, 
hit  it !  " 

"That  isn't  exactly  my  mode  of  warfare,"  began 
the  minister. 

"  It  is  easily  learned,"  replied  the  major,  getting 
slowly  upon  his  feet.  "  Never  mind  about  your 
methods.  Just  obey  orders.  We  '11  furnish  the  plan 
of  the  campaign." 


432  THE   HOCKAXOf.'h' 


The  languor  that  had  begun  to  oppress  the  major  at 
the  breakfast  table  grew  worse  during  the  day.  His 
dinner  was  sent  to  his  room,  but  returned  uutasted. 
His  supper  was  declined  in  advance.  The  doctor 
found  him  in  bed  with  symptoms  of  fever.  r 

"This  is  a  pretty  mess,  Tom,"  said  the  major. 
"  You  must  get  me  out  of  here  before  Monday.  I  've 
got  to  go  to  Chicago." 

"  I  '11  do  the  best  I  can,"  said  the  doctor. 

But  the  night  passed  wearily,  and  the  morning 
showed  no  improvement  in  the  patient's  condition. 
"  What  do  you  think  about  the  Chicago  trip,  Tom?  " 
he  asked. 

"  Better  put  it  off  a  week  or  two." 

"  Do  you  mean  that  I  shall  have  to?  " 

"  I  am  afraid  so." 

"  Then  I  must  send  for  Fisk.  How  soon  can  we 
get  him  here  ?  " 

"  Is  it  necessary?  " 

"  Indispensably  necessary.  If  I  can't  go  to  him 
inside  of  four  days,  he  must  come  to  me." 

"  "Well,  if  he  must  come,  we  can  send  a  despatch 
from  Warnock  in  time  for  him  to  catch  the  evening 
train." 

"  Send  it,  then,  and  put  it  plain  and  strong.  Don't 
try  to  scrimp  it.  Write  as  fully  as  you  would  in  a 
letter,  and  write  it  so  that  it  will  fetch  him  without 


THE   SILVER   PITCJIEIi.  433 

fail,  and  send  it  by  a  trusty  man  with  the  fastest  horse 
in  town." 

"That  means  my  man  Pat,  and  the  black  mare. 
I  '11  miarautee  its  arrival  in  \Varnock  in  forty-five  min- 
utes ;  and  Pat  can  wait  for  the  train,  and  bring  the 
man  back  with  him." 

The  guaranty  was  kept,  and  long  before  the  Rocka- 
nock  stage  had  reached  the  first  of  what  Lezer  called 
old  Grey's  u  thinkiu'  spots,"  the  black  mare  brought 
the  lawyer  to  the  door. 

He  had  news  to  tell,  of  the  condition  of  the  Ottway 
business,  of  (J  rim's  recent  discoveries,  and  of  the 
progress  made  in  the  preparation  of  the  test  case. 
The  major  acquainted  him  more  fully  with  the  mat- 
ter of  the  parish  scandal,  and  wished  him  to  take 
it  vigorously  in  hand.  There  were  long  consultations 
on  bu>iness  more  strictly  personal,  with  tin-  writing  of 
Hindi  fo<,l>cap,  a  witnessing  of  signatures,  and  the 
attendance,  for  a  few  moments,  of  Deacon  Waiibertou 
in  the  capacity  of  a  notary. 

The  lawyer  alno  had  interviews  with  Mr.  Austin  and 
with  Lucy,  both  alone  and  in  the  presence  of  the  major. 
He  finished  his  work  at  a  late  hour,  and  departed  by 
the  morning  stage,  leaving  many  documentary  and 
other  mementoes  of  his  visit  behind  him. 

The  major's  mind  was  now  at  rest,  but  his  physical 
condition  showed  no  improvement.  The  fever  symp- 


434  THE  ROCKANOCK  STAGE. 

to  ins  were  more  marked.  By  neon  the  doctor  thought 
it  typhoid.  By  night  he  had  become  certain  of  it. 

"  Send  at  once  for  a  professional  nurse,"  said  the 
major.  "  I  won't  have  you  all  wearing  yourselves  out 
over  me." 

"  "We  will  send  for  one  when  we  need  him,"  replied 
Helen,  who  had  her  own  ideas  about  what  was  to  be 
done. 

Mr.  Austin  immediately  tendered  his  services,  and 
begged  so  earnestly  for  permission  to  do  something 
for  the  major  that  he  could  not  be  denied.  His  offer 
to  attend  the  patient  during  the  first  half  of  every 
night  was  accepted,  not  without  hesitation  on  their 
part,  but  greatly  to  his  gratification  and  that  of  the 
major,  who,  always  excepting  Lucy,  liked  no  one  to 
be  with  him  so  well  as  the  minister.  The  other  half  of 
the  night  was  taken  sometimes  by  the  doctor  and 
sometimes  by  Deacon  Wauberton.  The  day  was 
divided  between  Helen  and  Lucy. 

This  new  demand  upon  their  thought  and  strength 
was  rather  a  relief  than  a  burden,  after  the  intense 
strain  to  which  their  recent  anxieties  had  subjected 
them.  Upon  Mr.  Austin  the  effect  was  especially 
salutary.  It  drew  him  away  from  the  contemplation 
of  his  own  trials,  and  compelled  him  to  take  an  interest 
in  the  welfare  of  another. 

But  however  he  succeeded  in  forgetting  himself,  he 


THE  SILVER  PITCHER.  435 

found  that  others  did  not  forget  him.  The  scandal  still 
made  its  way,  through  the  ingenious  artifices  of  its  in- 
ventors and  abettors,  and  not  less  through  the  loquacity 
•  •rtain  excellent  people,  who  were  so  exasperated 
by  its  meanness  that  they  could  not  let  it  rest  day  or 
night,  but  hawked  it  up  and  dpwu  the  town,  under  the 
impression  that  they  were  vindicating  its  victim.  Mr. 
Brown  expressed  his  mind  to  Mr.  Grey  about  the  in- 
nuendoes of  Mr.  Cn-eii  in  conversation  with  Mr.  White 
concerning  the  impudent  assertions  of  Mr.  Black. 
Miss  Rose  repeated  indignantly  to  Miss  Violet  what 
her  mother  had  heard  Mrs.  Buff  whisper  to  Mrs. 
Lavender  and  Mrs.  Palepink.  And  so  they  kept  it 

ng- 

"Wall,"  said  Lezer  to  a  well-meaning  defender  of 
the  pastor's  reputation,  "  ef  ye  don't  b'l'eve  it  jest  keep 
savin'  so,  all  over  town.  Talk  to  everybody  ye  meet 
about  it.  Paint  it  on  one  o'  these  here  advertizing 
three-square  transparuncies,  with  a  candle  inside,  and 
carry  it  up  'n'  down  the  streets,  with  a  line  in  small  print 
down  ter  the  bottom  sayin'  it's  a  lie!  Reminds  me 
o' my  Uncle  Kodack.  Ari< T  IK-  ;_rive  up  preachin'  V 
went  ter  fannin',  he  carried  his  thealogicle  idees  right 
inter  his  business.  Ther'  was  a  little  patch  o'Canady 
thistles  in  one  corner  of  his  farm  ;  'n'  l.'ncle  Rodack,  he 
hated  thorn  thistles  awful,  'cause  they  reminded  him  o' 
the  cuss,  y.-r  sue.  He  hated  'em  so  bad,  that  he  mowed 


436  THE  KOCKANOCK  STAGE. 

'em  down,  arter  they  'd  gone  to  seed,  an'  then  he  took 
V  kicked  'em  all  over  his  farm,  till  they  was  jest 
knocked  inter  strings  'n'  flinders.  The  next  year  they 
wa'n't  a  square  yard  o'  that  farm  that  had  n't  thistles 
onto  it.  Uncle  Rodack  said  he  never  had  no  idee  what 
an  awful  thing  the  cnss  wnz.  That  wuz  twenty-three 
year  ago,  'n'  he  's  ben  a-fightin'  them  air  thistles  ever 
sense,  'n'  he  ha'n't  got  a  quarter  on  'em  out  yit.  He 
don't  kick  'em  no  more,  though.  '  Lezer,'  sez  he  ter 
me,  '  never  kick  thistles  'round.  It  don't  pay,'  sez 
he.  '  Kicks  is  jest  what  thistles  thrives  on.  The 
longer  ye  kick  'em  the  more  ther'  is  of  'em,'  sez  he." 

To  Mr.  Austin  the  stage  driver's  wisdom  came  in 
different  garb,  though  quite  as  characteristic.  "  I 
heerd  some  bad  news,  this  morning,  elder,"  he  said. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  hear  that,"  replied  the  minister. 
"Is  it  about  any  one  I  know?" 

"  Oh,  no !  you  never  see  nor  heerd  tell  on  him. 
Not  many  people  ever  did.  He  wuz  a  young  minister, 
down  in  C'ne'ticut,  where  I  wuz  brung  up.  One  o'  my 
schoolmates,  he  wuz,  'n'  jest  the  best  boy  't  ever  lived. 
Never  cut  up,  John  never  did  ;  never  whispered,  nor 
whittled  the  desk,  nor  flung  paper  wads,  nor  nothin'. 
Allers  had  his  lesson  tiptop.  Why,  he  wuz  so  good 
'at,  actilly,  some  days  the  master  'd  forgit  he  wuz 
there!  jest  forgit  him,  an'  seem  ter  look  right  through 
him  without  seein'  him.  Think  o'  that !  An'  the 


THE   SILVER   PITCHER.  437 

scholars  \\  forgit  him,  too,  an'  step  on  him  or  run  agin 
him.  'fore  they  noticed  him  ;  an'  then,  stid  o'  rippin' 
at  ye,  or  askiu'  what  ye  meant,  he'd  beg  yer 
pardon  !  " 

"  Quite  angelic,"  said  Mr.  Austin,  waiting  atten- 
tively to  hear  the  conclusion  and  the  moral  of  this 
fable. 

;-  Wall,"  continued  Lezer,  "  he  got  to  be  a  minister ; 
an'  he  wuz  that  good,  never  savin'  nothiu'  to  hurt 
folks'  feelin's  an'  never  preachin'  no  sermons  'at  had 
sharp  p'ints  to  'em,  an'  never  doin'  nothiu'  'at  folks 
could  find  fault  with,  that  himeby  it  happened  jes  es  it 
did  in  school.  Folks  forgot  him  !  Yer  see  there  wa'u't 
nothin'  about  him  to  talk  about.  He  had  n't  no  p'ints, 
nor  corners,  nor  nothin'  ter  git  a-holt  of,  an'  uo  shape 
an'  no  color  ter  ketch  yer  eye  ;  an'  they  jes  forgot  him. 
They  forgot  ter  go  ter  church,  an'  forgot  ter  pay  his 
salary,  an'  finally  his  boardin'-house  keeper  forgot  ter 
call  him  ter  dinner!  "  Le/.er  paused. 

'•  What  became  of  him?  "asked  Mr.  Austin  know- 
ing that  the  question  was  expected  of  him. 

••  Wall,  here  day  'fore  yistdy  —  lemmc  see,  must  'a' 
b'eu  nigh  on  ter  twenty  years  arter  they'd  forgot  him 
—  some  boys  chased  a  chipmuck  into  an  old.  empty, 
tumbledown  btiildin'  and  lo  an'  beliold  tliere  was  pews 
an'  pulpit  an'  orgin  ;  an'  a  moth-eaten  carpet  on  tlie 
lloor ;  and  the  plaster  bangin'  in  tatters  from  the 


438  THE  EOCKANOCK  STAGE. 

ceilin' ;  an'  there,  leaniu'  over  tbe  cushi'n  o'  the  pulpit, 
was  a  skellitim,  with  a  suit  of  black  cloze  on  !  "  The 
solemn  romancer  paused  again,  shaking  his  head  mys- 
teriously. 

"  Is  that  all?  "  asked  the  minister  politely. 

"It's  the  heft  of  it,"  replied  Lezer,  "  but  I  might 
ez  well  tell  the  rest  now  I  'm  about  it.  The  hull  town 
come  runniu'  together ;  but  they  could  n't  give  no  ex- 
planation. Nobody  rekkignized  the  skellitun  an'  no- 
body knowed  what  the  old  buildin'  wuz.  But  the  boy 
what  chased  the  chipmuck  heerd  a  little  squeakin'  in 
the  skellituu's  coat-tail  pockit,  and  run  his  hand  in. 
He  drawed  it  back  mighty  quick,  with  three  chipmucks 
a-hangin'  by  their  business  teeth  to  his  fingers.  Wall, 
arter  they  got  the  chipmucks  all  out,  they  found  in  the 
bottom  o'  the  pockit  a  chawed-up  yaller  paper  savin', 
in  a  tremblin'  hand,  'n'  all  kinder  blotted  'n'  blurred, 
'  Oh,  thet  I  hed  n't  'a'  been  so  harmless,  so  nootral,  so 
transparently  saraffick  !  Oh.  that  I  had  early  learned 
to  rap  people  over  the  knuckles,  to  stir  'em  up  with  a 
sharp  stick,  to  make  'em  mad,  au'  git  'era  down  on  me ! 
Too  late  I  diskuvver  what  a  preshus  boon  enemies  is. 
How  blessed  ter  be  abused  an'  lied  about !  for  then 
you  know  that  you  've  did  somethin'  to  make  yerself 
felt  'n'  remembered.'  They  was  some  other  words,  but 
too  much  gnawed  by  chipmucks  to  be  made  out.  an' 
then  come  his  name.  An'  who  should  it  be  but  my  old 


THE  SILVER   PITCHER.  439 

schoolfeller,  John  Toogood  ?  Poor  John !  His  own 
mother  heel  u't  missed  him,  an'  could  n't  jest  rightly 
remember  about  him,  but  sed  ther'  did  uster  be  some- 
thin'  settin'  round  the  house,  an'  gittin'  in  folks'  way, 
an'  she  guessed  that  must  'a'  been  John.' 

"  Wall,  it 's  be'n  a  dreffle  sollurn  lesson  to  me,  an'  it 's 
reely  gi'n  me  a  turn  o'  hypo.  Folks  don't  lie  enough 
about  me.  I  a'n't  abused  as  a  real,  live  man  oughter 
be.  I  'm  afraid  I  'm  sorter  fadin'  out,  an'  goiu'  ter  be 
forgot,  like  poor  ole  John,  ferzino." 

Mr.  Austin  smiled  knowingly  at  Lezer's  parable, 
and  bade  him  be  of  good  cheer,  as  he  was  still  visible 
to  the  naked  eye,  and  had  points  enough  to  keep  his 
friends  from  forgetting  him.  On  his  own  part  the 
minister  did  not  regard  persecution  as  prima  facie 
evidence  of  virtue,  but  was  grateful  for  the  respect  and 
sympathy  which  the  stage  driver  had  thus  delicately 
expressed  to  him. 

Elsewhere  he  met  more  and  more  annoyance.  Some 
people  passed  him  without  recognition  ;  some  stared  at 
him  with  ill-bred  curiosity  ;  some  gave  him  looks  inten- 
tionally expressive  of  suspicion  ;  some  embarrassed 
him  by  words  of  condolence  ;  some  made  painful  ex- 
hibition of  foheir  own  embarrassment  in  his  presence. 
He  came  to  dread  any  encounter  with  people,  and 
would  fain  have  shut  himself  up  at  home,  but  knew  that 
that  would  be  construed  as  a  confession  of  guilt.  Il»\\ 


440  THE  EOCKANOCK  STAGE. 

he  was  ever  going  to  preach  again,  he  could  not  tell. 
He  looked  forward  to  the  approaching  Sabbath  with 
unutterable  terror. 

The  Ashley  home  was  a  haven  of  peace.  There,  no 
word  or  look  reminded  him  that  a  cloud  was  overhang- 
ing his  bead.  There  was  a  little  added  kindness  in 
the  demeanor  of  the  family  toward  him,  but  that  was 
all ;  and  even  that  was  apparently  an  unconscious 
change. 

One  token  only  signaled  to  him  the  otherwise  un- 
spoken sympathy.  The  silver  pitcher  came  each  day 
to  his  table,  and  always  with  fresh  flowers,  and  a  new 
verse  for  his  comfort.  On  the  second  morning  it  held 
pansies,  and  the  paper  said,  "  Wait  on  the  Lord:  be 
of  good  courage,  and  he  shall  strengthen  thine  heart." 
On  the  next  day  there  was  a  spray  of  scarlet  begonias, 
and  the  message  was,  "Blessed  is  the  man  that  en- 
dureth  temptation  :  for  when  he  is  tried,  he  shall  receive 
the  crown  of  life."  On  the  day  after,  there  was  a 
beautiful  tea-rose,  and  the  words,  "•  He  careth  for 
you."  And  so  on,  day  after  day.  He  never  asked 
who  brought  them,  or  exchanged  a  word  with  the  giver 
concerning  them  ;  but  he  gave  devout  thanks  for  them 
as  for  manna  from  heaven. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

TIDES    IN    THE    AFFAIRS    OF    MEN. 

FOUR  or  five  months  of  intrigue  had  not  improved 
the  already  precarious  morals  of  Mr.  Allan 
Mac  Allan.  At  first  he  had  shrunk  from  certain 
grosser  forms  of  dishonesty.  Some  of  Pack's  rascal- 
ities had  really  shocked  him,  and  he  had  congratulated 
himself  that  he  was  not  so  shamefully  depraved  as 
this  shyster.  He  lied  no  more  than  seemed  necessary, 
and  maintained  at  considerable  sacrifice  a  specious 
compound  of  conceit  and  selfishness  which  he  mistook 
for  a  sense  of  honor. 

But  all  that  was  over  long  ago.  He  now  so  far 
surpassed  Pack  in  unscrupulousness  that  that  virtuous 
man  had  felt  obliged  to  rebuke  him.  He  frankly  ad- 
mitted to  himself  that  there  was  nothing  at  which  he 
would  hesitate  in  carrying  out  his  schemes,  except  too 
much  danger  of  detection.  He  was  surprised  at  the 
ease  with  which  the  scandal  had  been  set  going,  but 
gloated  over  the  success  of  his  effort  and  the  tortun: 
to  which  he  was  subjecting  the  parson.  "  Everything 
works  beautifully,"  he  wrote  to  Puck,  "  and  we  will 
soon  be  rid  of  him." 

441 


442  THE  ROCKANOCK  STAGE. 

The  major's  illness  also  pleased  him  well,  especially 
as  it  increased  in  violence.  And  when  the  second 
week  of  it  was  near  its  close,  and  the  opinion  was  ex- 
pressed that  the  major  would  not  live  forty-eight  hours, 
Mr.  MacAllan  could  not  eat  or  sleep  for  excitement, 
and  sent  bulletins  to  Chicago  by  every  mail,  giving 
the  latest  report  of  the  sick  man's  condition,  and  even 
arranged  with  Pack  the  form  of  a  cipher  telegram  to 
be  sent  in  case  of  the  lucky  —  that  is,  fatal  —  termi- 
nation of  the  fever. 

What  Mr.  MacAllan  hoped,  others  feared.  The 
family  had  adhered  to  the  original  determination  not 
to  relinquish  the  sick  man  for  one  hour  to  the  care  of 
strangers,  always  excepting  the  Waubertons,  who  were 
not  reckoned  as  such.  The  task  had  been  a  tryiug 
one.  Most  of  them  already  had  exacting  duties  on 
hand.  The  doctor  was  unusually  busy.  Mrs.  Ashley 
was  full  of  motherly  and  housewifely  cares.  Mr. 
Austin,  besides  his  parish  work,  was  bearing  a  crush- 
ing burden  of  trial. 

Lucy  surprised  them  all,  both  by  her  physical  endur- 
ance and  by  her  capacity.  Overwhelmed  at  first  by 
the  discovery  of  the  major's  condition  and  danger,  she 
sank  down  nerveless  and  bewildered.  But  when  the 
first  shock  was  over  and  she  comprehended  the  demands 
which  the  emergency  made  upon  her,  she  showed  a 
fortitude,  a  devotion,  and  a  power  of  adaptation  truly 


TIDES  IN    THE  AFFAIRS   OF  MEN.        443 

wonderful.  Besides  her  duties  as  watcher  and  nurse, 
during  a  good  part  of  every  day  it  devolved  upon  her 
to  attend  to  the  major's  correspondence,  not  only 
while  he  was  well  enough  to  hear  the  letters  read  and 
to  dictate  roughly  an  occasional  answer,  but  after  it 
became  impossible  to  bring  the  slightest  item  of  busi- 
to  his  attention.  Inquiries  concerning  property, 
applications  for  vacant  rooms,  complaints  of  tenants, 
remittances  for  rent  or  interest,  bills  for  repairs,  re- 
quests for  benevolent  contributions,  notices  of  divi- 
dends or  assessments,  letters  from  relatives  or  from 
old  army  friends  —  so  the  category  ran,  every  mail 
adding  to  the  list.  Lucy  struggled  with  the  business 
as  best  she  was  able.  Some  problems  she  could  solve 
by  previous  knowledge  of  the  affair  in  question  ;  some 
yielded  to  her  common  sense ;  upon  some  she  sought 
the  advice  of  others,  commonly  of  Mr.  Austin,  whom 
she  found  herself  consulting  upon  one  matter  or 
another  more  than  once  every  day. 

The  thirteenth  day  of  the  fever  had  passed  —  a 
Saturdav  —  in  whose  warm  air  the  earth  had  lain 
dreaming,  wrapped  in  the  soft  Indian  summer  ha/.e. 
It  was  the  seventh  of  October.  Mr.  Austin  Kept  his 
watch  until  midnight,  when  the  doctor  drove  and 
pushed  him  from  the  room,  "(lo  to  bed.  dear 
fellow,"  he  said.  "  I  will  call  you  if  any  change 
occurs.  Remember  what  you  have  to  do  to-morrow, 
or  rather  to-day,  for  it  is  Sunday  already." 


444  THE  KOCKANOC.K  STAGE. 

But  the  minister  felt  little  enough  like  sleeping. 
Descending  the  stairs,  he  stepped  out  upon  the 
veranda.  The  night  was  mild  as  a  night  in  June, 
though  the  wind  was  rising  briskly.  The  scent  of  the 
autumn  leaves  was  in  the  air.  A  brave  little  tea-rose 
in  the  angle  of  the  veranda  was  exhaling  its  thanks 
for  the  friendly  shelter  from  the  frosts. 

"  Good  morning  !  "  said  a  whisper  out  of  the  wood- 
bine shadows. 

"  You,  Miss  Darling,"  he  whispered  back.  "You 
should  be  resting  long  ago." 

"I  am  resting,"  she  said.  "The  great  sky  rests 
me,  and  the  sweet  air,  and  the  delicious  darkness. 
But  you  —  you  must  not  be  here.  You  have  to  preach 
to-day,  and  you  are  so  weary  already !  You  must 
rest !  Do  please  go !  " 

There  was  such  pleading  in  the  tone  as  strangely 
thrilled  his  heart,  and  yet  strangely  disinclined  him  to 
yield  to  the  entreaty.  In  her  earnestness  she  put  her 
two  hands  upon  his  arm,  as  he  had  often  seen  her 
lay  them  coaxingly  upon  the  major's.  The  last  two 
weeks  of  common  anxieties  and  weary  watches  at  the 
same  sick  bed  had  drawn  the  family  very  near  to  one 
another,  and  Lucy  hud  learned  to  thank  God  that  he 
had  given  her  a  brother. 

"I  am  resting,"  the  brother  now  replied  to  her 
entreaty,  quoting  her  own  words  to  her.  "  If  you  can 


TIDES  IX   THE  AFFAIRS   OF  MEN".        445 

spare  me  a  little  of  your  sky  and  air  and  delicious 
darkness,  let  us  enjoy  them  together." 

She  took  the  arm  he  offered  her.  "  Not  here,"  she 
said,  still  whispering.  "  We  must  not  walk  upon  the 
veranda,  you  know.  Let  us  walk  upon  the  lawn." 

"  But  your  feet  —  the  grass." 

"There  is  no  dew.  I  have  been  walking  there 
already,  till  I  fancied  I  heard  a  noise  in  the  shrubbery 
and  ran  back  to  the  house ;  I  am  such  a  coward  in  the 
dark  !  " 

They  descended  to  the  lawn,  and  avoiding  the 
gravel  paths,  walked  for  some  time  slowly  back  and 
forth  upon  the  soft  velvet  of  the  turf. 

They  returned  together  to  the  sick  room,  where  the 
doctor  kept  his  solitary  watch.  He  expressed  no  sur- 
prise at  their  unseasonable  arrival,  well  knowing  why 
they  could  not  go  to  rest.  Mrs.  Ashley,  also  unable 
to  sleep,  came  in  presently,  and  the  four  watched  the 
night  out  together.  How  slowly  the  hours  went  by ! 

How  terrible  the  suspense,  as  morning  drew  near  — 
the  awful  ebb-tide  of  human  life.  The  doctor  sat 
with  his  fingers  upon  the  pulse  of  the  unconscious 
patient.  Helen  put  her  hand  upon  her  husband's 
shoulder.  "O  Tom!"  she  said  with  a  trembling 
voice,  "I  want  Mr.  Austin  to  pray." 

The  doctor  nodded  cordial  assent  and  covered  his 
eyes  with  his  disengaged  hand.  Helen  and  Lucy 


446  THE  EOCKANOCK  STAGE. 

knelt  together,  clinging  to  each  other,  and  responding 
with  sobs  to  the  prayer  whose  low  tones  were  broken 
again  and  again  by  the  minister's  own  ^motions. 

It  was  a  prayer  of  faith,  —  faith  in  the  Ordainer  of 
human  destiny  ;  faith  in  the  immutability  of  his  coun- 
sels ;  faith  in  the  beneficence  of  natural  law ;  faith  in 
a  wisdom  to  which  no  man  might  dictate  ;  faith,  never- 
theless, in  the  supremacy  of  the  Ruler  over  his  own 
servant,  nature,  and  his  servant's  servants,  cause  and 
force  ;  faith  in  prayer  as  a  part  of  nature's  own  sys- 
tem, a  divinely  appointed  cause  and  force;  faith  in 
faith's  own  reasonableness  and  transcendent  power. 

In  this  atmosphere  of  prayer,  the  unconscious 
patient  met  the  crisis  of  his  disease,  hovered  for  a 
time  between  life  and  death,  and  then,  —  was  it  through 
prayer,  as  the  sobbing  sisters  thought,  or  good  nurs- 
ing, as  the  major  afterward  believed,  or  medical  skill, 
as  the  neighbors  supposed,  or  constitutional  elasticity, 
as  The  Rockby  Interview  said,  or  a  lucky  chance,  as 
Squire  Mycopp  called  it,  or  an  unlucky  one,  as  Mr. 
MacAllau  regarded  it? — to  everybody's  surprise,  the 
major  began  slowly  to  improve. 

To  Mr.  Mac  Allan  it  was  more  than  a  surprise.     It 

,  was  a  disappointment.     It   was    an    aggravation.     It 

was  an  impertinence  and  an  injustice.     What  did  the 

old  fellow  want  to  get  well  for,  when  his  death  was  so 

much  more  to  be  desired?    Had  he  died,  all  difficulties 


TIDES  IX  THE  AFFAIRS  OF  MEN.        447 

t 

would  have  been  solved.  Lucy  would  have  been  an 
heiress  ;  there  would  have  been  no  betrothal  to  bother 
al>out ;  Austin  would  have  been  easily  disposed  of, 
nud  a  handsome  courtier,  already  once  in  Miss 
Darling's  favor,  could  have  regained  his  position  in  a 
trice,  and  have  married  her  at  his  pleasure.  Now  all 
was  at  sixes  and  sevens  again  ! 

But  this  was  not  Mr.  MacAllan's  only  grievance.  He 
could  forgive  the  major  for  getting  well,  but  how  could 
he  forgive  the  minister  for  his  worse  offenses?  The 
field  glass  had  been  often  in  requisition  of  late,  and  had 
discovered  unmistakable  evidence  that  the  minister  was 
increasing  in  favor  with  the  entire  family,  especially 
with  Lucy.  "  And  to  see  the  meanness  of  the  fellow," 
said  Mr.  MacAllan  with  virtuous  indignation,  "  tak- 
ing advantage  of  the  major's  sickness  to  advance  his 
own  suit  with  the  susceptible  girl !  " 

Mr.  MacAllan  had  been  as  unable  to  sleep  as  the 
others  had  been  on  the  previous  night.  And  as  the 
field  glass  was  not  available  after  dark,  and  his  view 
of  the  next  house  was  limited,  he  stole  down  to  the 
garden,  and  into  the  Ashley  premises,  where  he  could 
gain  a  view  of  the  sick  room  windows,  to  watch  for 
any  omens,  good  or  had,  which  might  be  discovered. 
The  moon  \\  as  not  yet  up,  and  he  was  entirely  concealed 
among  the  shrubbery. 

The  coming  of  Lucy,  whom  he  recognized   by  the 


448  THE  JIOCKANOCK  STAGE. 

* 

light  of  the  hall  lamp  when  she  emerged  from  the 
door,  was  a  pleasant  surprise.  He  fairly  trembled 
with  excitement  as  she  walked  up  and  down  the  lawn, 
and  was  on  the  point  of  speaking  to  her,  when  she 
turned  and  fled.  Before  Mr.  Austin  came  the  moon 
was  up,  and  the  sentinel,  though  compelled  to  conceal 
himself  more  carefully,  was  able  to  hear  an  interchange 
of  mysterious  whispers,  to  see  the  two  figures  in  sus- 
picious proximity,  and  to  follow  them  in  their  moonlight 
promenade. 

"A  midnight  meeting  under  the  very  windows  of 
the  room  where  her  affianced  husband  lies  dying !  " 
muttered  MacAllan  between  his  teeth.  "That  is  a 
drop  too  much.  And  to  think  that  the  sneaking  hypo- 
crite should  have  tried  to  bluff  me  from  paying  honor- 
able attentions  to  her  in  broad  daylight !  I  '11  never 
stand  that !  I  can't  and  I  won't !  I  '11  have  his  blood, 
if  it  costs  me  my  neck !  I  'd  kill  him  on  the  spot,  and 
her  with  him,  if  there  was  n't  too  much  at  stake. 
Never  mind,  Reverend  Sneak,  another  time  will  do  for 
yon,  and  another  fate  for  her  !  We  must  wait  and  see 
first  whether  the  old  major  is  going  to  pass  in  his 
checks." 

The  major  showed  no  signs  of  such  an  intention. 
Throughout  Sunday  he  continued  to  improve.  He  lay 
almost  like  one  dead,  but  the  fever  had  abated.  "  We 
ought  to  pray  again,"  said  Helen,  "  in  thanksgiving 
for  his  escape." 


TIDES  IN   THE  AFFAIRS   OF  MEN.         449 

"  You  'd  better  pray  that  be  ma}'  have  no  relapse  ! " 
responded  the  doctor. 

As  the  twilight  came  on,  Lucy  sought  the  garden, 
and  walked  about  among  the  trees,  telling  them  how 
happy  she  was,  and  softly  humming  bits  of  song  that 
were  making  melody  in  her  heart.  The  church  bells 
were  ringing  for  the  Sabbath  evening  service.  "  Next 
Sunday,"  she  said  to  herself,  'k  if  the  dear  major  con- 
tinues to  improve,  I  can  go  to  church  ;  and  what 
thanksgivings  I  shall  have  to  offer !  " 

Between  the  two  gardens,  Dr.  Ashley's  and  Deacon 
Wauberton's,  stood  a  group  of  plum  trees,  over  whose 
barren,  tangled  tops  a  wild  grape  had  run  in  its  own 
luxuriant  fashion,  piling  up  masses  of  foliage,  leaf 
lapping  leaf  —  the  tiles  of  a  living  roof — while  from 
every  branch  long,  slender  sprays  and  graceful  fes- 
toons swung  in  the  wind.  Under  this  natural  arbor 
seats  had  been  placed,  and  there  the  members  of  the 
two  households  often  met,  as  on  a  sort  of  neutral 
ground. 

There  Lucy  sat  down  as  the  Sabbath  twilight  faded, 
and  watched  the  stars,  as  they  were  lighted  one  by 
one,  and  mentally  joined  in  the  worship  which  she 
knew  then  to  be  in  progress  in  a  certain  church  whose 
spire  she  could  see  in  the  distance.  Mr.  Austin  had 
told  her  his  text,  and  what  he  meant  to  do  with  it. 
He  had  fallen  into  the  way  of  talking  over  his  sermons 


450  THE  KOCKANOCK  STAGE. 

with  her,  and  had  more  than  once  made  hearty  ac- 
knowledgment to  her  of  helpful  suggestions,  though 
she  insisted  that  she  had  only  caught  his  own  thought 
just  a  moment  before  he  uttered  it.  She  felt  a  peculiar 
sense  of  fellowship  with  his  mind  to-night,  both  from 
the  clearer  knowledge  of  him  which  the  past  two  weeks 
had  given  her,  and  because  she  knew,  better  than  he 
supposed,  how  his  great  trial  weighed  upon  him,  and 
what  a  martyrdom  it  was  for  him  to  look  his  congre- 
gation in  the  face. 

"  Good  evening,  Miss  Darling,"  said  a  pleasant  voice 
behind  her.  Startled  from  her  reverie  by  the  sound, 
though  she  easily  recognized  its  quality,  she  rose 
from  her  seat  and  returned  the  salutation  pleasantly. 

"  Good  evening,  Mr.  Mac  Allan.  Do  not  laugh  at 
my  nervousness;  it  is  a  little  worse  than  usual  this 
evening,  which  is  quite  unnecessary." 

He  could  discover  no  change  in  her  manner  toward 
him ;  no  embarrassment.  What  a  consummate  co- 
quette !  How  many  shades  deeper,  he  wondered, 
would  these  charming  blushes  be,  if  she  knew  that 
he  had  witnessed  the  midnight  meeting  on  the  lawn 
yonder  only  a  few  hours  before?  It  was  not  his  policy 
at  this  moment  to  remind  her  of  it. 

"Pardon  me  for  disturbing  you,"  he  said,  "but  I 
wanted  to  rejoice  with  you  over  Major  Gibson's  escape. 
I  have  been  very  anxious  about  him." 


TIDES  T\r   THE  AFFAIRS   OF  MEN.        451 

He  touched  her  at  a  sensitive  point.  "Oh!  thank 
you,  Mr.  Mac-Allan,  for  your  interest  in  him.  There 
has  been  a  terribly  anxious  time  for  us  all,  and  it  is 
not  over  yet." 

"  But,"  pursued  Mr.  Mat-Allan,  "  I  have  been  even 
more  anxious  about  you,  and  am  so  still.  You  have 
h:id  such  an  ordeal!  And — don't  let  me  frighten 
you  —  you  are  so  tired  !  I  fear  the  reaction  will  make 
you  sick." 

Again  lie  had  touched  her.  How  kind-hearted  lie 
was  !  How  did  ho,  know  that  she  was  so  tired?  She 
had  not  confessed  it,  even  to  Maggie.  Her  blushes 
deepened  as  she  said,  "  You  are  very  kind  to  care; 
about  it ;  but  I  do  not  mean  to  be  sick." 

"  I  hope  not,"  he  said  fervently.  She  was  con- 
vinced that  he  was  all  that  she  had  thought  him,  and 
wished  that  the  major  could  only  think  so,  too.  Her 
phni  of  making  Mr.  Mat-Allan  her  confidential  adviser 
in  the  Ottway  business  revived.  She  could  not  discuss 
business  affairs  now,  but  upon  the  first  suitable  occa- 
sion she  would  consult  him. 

••  Miss  Darling,"  said  he  with  a  forlorn  face  and  a 
heartbroken  voice,  "will  you  not  tell  me  what  it  is 
that  has  destroyed  your  regard  for  me?" 

"Nothing  Ins  destroyed  it, "she  answered  inno- 
cently, "  or  changed  it  in  the  least." 

lie  sprang  forward,  sei/ed  her  by  the  hand,  and 
bewail  pouring  forth  impetuous  word-. 


CHAPTER   XXXIV. 

UNDER     THE     GRAPEVINE. 

THE  maiden's  hand  was  snatched  from  his  grasp 
as  from  a  viper's  touch.  m  She  was  on  her  feet, 
shrinking  back  from  him  as  far  as  the  vines  would 
possibly  let  her.  Her  blushes  burned  a  glowing  red, 
seven  times  deeper  than  ever  he  had  seen  or  imagined 
them. 

"  Mr.  MacAllan  !  What  do  you  mean  by  address- 
ing such  language  to  me  ?  " 

"More  coquetry!"  he  thought,  "and  admirably 
well  done.  But  it  does  n't  go  down  with  an  old  beau 
like  me." 

Taking  a  step  nearer  to  her,  he  said,  "  Do  not 
trifle  with  me,  Lucy.  You  know  that  you  have  given 
me  unmistakable  reason  to  believe  that  you  care  for 
me.  You  cannot  deny  that." 

She  no  longer  blushed ;  she  was  white  with  anger. 
"  Deny  it?  "  she  repeated  with  contemptuous  empha- 
sis. "  I  brand  it  as  the  meanest  falsehood  and  insult ! 
Do  you  dare  come  here,  sir,  and  tell  me  to  my  face 
that  I  have  ever,  by  word  or  act,  shown  any  regard 
for  you  beyond  that  of  ordinary  friendship?  You 

452 


r\DER  THE  r,r,APi:vi\i:.  453 

know  it  is  false  !  Stand  aside,  and  let  me  pass  !  I 
have  talked  too  long  with  what  I  once  mistook  for  a 
gentleman  !  " 

He  still  believed  her  to  be  coquetting.  lie  had  seen 
such  things  before,  this  old  beau,  though  nothing 
quite  so  well  acted.  But  he  thought  it  better  to  try  a 
new  tack.  Ik-  sank  upon  the  seat  aqd  covered  his 
face  with  his  hands.  "Oh!  oh!  then  it  is  all  a 
divadful  mistake  !  I  have  boon  blinded  by  my  own 
ftvlings.  I  have  judged  the  noble  girl  by  myself.  I 
believed  what  my  heart  so  earnestly  longed  to  have 
true.  And  now  it  is  all  a  delusion,  and  I  am  spurned 

» 

and  hated  because  I  could  not  resist  the  power  of  her 
beauty,  the  charm  of  her  character.  Oh,  this  is  terri- 
ble !  terrible  !  How  can  I  bear  it?  " 

This  was  much  better.  Lucy  began  to  relent.  Let 
the  man  be  what  he  might,  he  was  in  agony,  and  that 
appealed  to  her  pity.  He  was  suffering  on  her  ac- 
count, and  that  touched  her  still  more  deeply.  Per- 
hap*  she  had  judged  him  too  harshly.  What  had  he 
dour?  L"%vd  her  and  mistaken  her  kindness  for  love. 
That  was  all.  As  to  the  first  offense,  if  his  regard 
really  sincere  and  honorable,  she  should  be  grate- 
ful, not  anirry.  As  to  the  second,  perhaps  she  had 
not  been  sntliciently  guarded.  Perhaps  she  had  un- 
consciou-ly  jjven  him  reason  to  think  as  he  did.  Her 
conscience  went  over  to  the  enemy.  She  ceased  to 
blame  him,  and  began  to  upbraid  herself. 


454  THE  ROCKAXOCK  STAGE. 

"  Forgive  me,"  she  said  at  length,  "  I  have  been 
unjust  to  you.  You  have  given  me  many  proofs  of 
your  honor.  I  ought  not  to  have  forgotten  them  so 
quickly." 

"  Hedging,  eh?  "  said  MaeAllan  to  himself.  "  Well, 
I  don't  object  to  that.  This  high  tragedy  is  most  too 
much  for  me." 

He  uncovered  his  face  and  lifted  his  head.  "Oh, 
how  generous  you  are ! "  he  exclaimed.  "  If  you 
want  me  to  hate  you,  don't  show  me  this  noble  gener- 
osity. It  only  makes  me  adore  you." 

"  I  want  ^either  your  hatred  nor  your  adoration. 
But  I  want  you  distinctly  and  finally  to  understand 
the  truth  in  regard  to  this  unhappy  business." 

"  Let  me  make  my  statement  first,  then.  I  cannot 
endure  to  have  you  misunderstand  me  for  another 
instant." 

She  seated  herself,  still  as  far  from  him  as  possible. 

"  Miss  Darling,"  he  began,  "  I  hardly  know  where 
to  commence,  or  bow  to  tell  a  coherent  story. 
I  have  been  an  orphan  from  boyhood,  and  given 
to  reverie  and  seclusion.  I  took  no  interest  in 
society,  and  was  Especially  timid  before  women.  But 
from  the  moment  I  stood  by  you  in  the  Tremont 
House  I  have  been  a  changed  man.  Your  image  has 
been  with  me  night  and  day.  I  fled  from  the  city  to 
cure  myself  of  what  I  believed  to  be  a  hopeless 


UXDER    THE   GRAPEVINE.  455 

passion ;  for  I  could  not  imagine  you,  with  your 
beauty  and  brilliancy  and  social  position,  taking 
notice  of  poor  me.  But  I  bad  barely  established  my- 
self here  when  you  arrived.  I  resolved  to  fly  again; 
but  a  spell  was  on  me  that  I  could  not  break.  Then, 
in  ways  which  seemed  to  me  providential,  I  was 
thrown  in  your  way,  and  our  acquaintance  began.  I 
flattered  myself  that  I  could  be  content  with  your 
friendship  merely.  Every  word  of  yours  was  so 
sweet  to  me,  it  was  such  rapture  even  to  be  in  the 
atmosphere  which  you  breathed,  that  I  held  your  cold- 
est regard  to  be  better  than  the  warmest  affections  of 
any  other.  Then,  still  in  providential  ways,  we  were 
brought  often  together  —  in  the  choir,  in  society,  in 
our  family  relations,  and  so  forth.  And  at  last,  to 
my  unutterable  delight,  I  thought  I  discovered  signs 
of  something  more  than  friendship.  I  imagined  that 
you  enjoyed  my  society  ;  that  it  was  a  pleasure  to  you 
to  talk  and  sing  and  ride  with  me.  Again  and  again 
I  tried  to  speak  of  my  feelings  ;  but  my  courage  failed 
me.  You  seemed  so  far  above  me,  how  could  I  aspire 
to  your  hand?  If  I  could  be  the  lowest  menial  in 
your  service,  I  should  be  too  greatly  honored.  All 
this  while  you  were  powerfully  influencing  my  reli- 
gious convictions.  I  \vas  losing  my  skepticism.  I 
was  drawn  toward  all  that,  was  good.  1  even  thought 
of  joining  the  church.  I  saw  that  with  you  Christian 
faith  and  all  good  things  were  possible  to  inc. 


456  THE  EOCKANOCK  STAGE. 

"Then  came  the  Ottway  episode,  and  everything 
grew  dark.  Again  it  was  you  who  came  to  me  like  a 
guardian  angel,  and  brought  me  fresh  hope.  But 
others  doubted  me.  The  major  did.  So  did  Dr. 
and  Mrs.  Ashley,  so  did  my  revered  pastor.  All  this 
I  could  endure  so  long  as  you  encouraged  me.  But 
after  your  Chicago  visit  something  seemed  to  shut 
down  between  us ;  and  then  it  was  night  with  me. 
All  good  seemed  to  forsake  me,  I  lost  my  faith  again, 
and  my  interest  in  life.  More  than  once  I  was  almost 
desperate  enough  to  end  my  own  existence.  Yet  the 
faintest  possible  hope  remained  that  you  would  be  kind 
to  me  again.  This  alone  kept  me  from  despair. 

"  This  evening  I  was  led  to  this  place.  You  smiled 
and  spoke  to  me  as  you  used  to.  And  when  you  told 
me  in  so  many  words  that  your  regard  for  me  was 
unchanged,  I  was  intoxicated  with  pleasure,  and  in  my 
impulsive,  blundering  way  said  what  seemed  to  you 
offensive.  But,  O  Miss  Darling  !  if  you  knew  what  a 
mad  dream  my  love  for  you  has  been,  you  would  pity 
me  and  forgive  me." 

It  was  admirably  spoken.  Much  of  it  had  been 
carefully  prepared,  and  often  conned  and  rehearsed. 
Nevertheless  it  was  well  delivered,  and  the  extempo- 
raneous passages,  and  the  adaptation  and  modification 
of  some  of  the  finished  periods,  and  the  skillful  blend- 
ing of  the  improvised  with  the  memorized  portions, 


UNDER    THE   GRAPEVINE.  457 

were  excellent.  Lucy  was  really  moved  by  it,  and  in 
certain  effective  passages  could  scarcely  restrain  her 
tears. 

"  Mr.  Mac-Allan,"  she  said,  "  it  is  I  who  need  for- 
giveness. As  to  pity,  it  is  hardly  a  fitting  sentiment 
between  friends,  and  you  and  I  are  friends,  and  I  hope 
may  long  continue  so.  I  thank  you  for  your  regard  ; 
though  the  extravagant  terms  in  which  you  express  it 
prove  that  you  conceive  of  me  as  very  different  from 
what  I  am,  and,  therefore,  that,  could  I  answer  y.ou  as 
you  wish  to-day,  I  should  only  be  preparing  for  you  a 
hitter  disappointment.  But  I  cannot  answer  so.  I 
have  respected  you,  believed  in  you,  enjoyed  your 
society.  That  has  been  the  nature  and  extent  of  my 
regard.  As  I  have  said,  it  remains  unchanged.  Sav- 
ing in  the  moment  of  foolish  anger,  when  I  misunder- 
stood you  just  now,  it  has  never  changed,  except  to 
grow  more  fixed  and  decided.  And  now,"  she  said, 
rising  and  steadying  herself  against  the  nearest  tree, 
"  it  only  remains  to  say,  as  closing  this  subject  forever 
between  us  "  — 

"Oh,  don't  say  that!"  exclaimed  Mr.  MacAllan, 
again  covering  his  face,  "don't  say  it!  It  will  crush 
IIH — it  will  kill  me  if  you  say  it!  Take  time  to  con- 
sider whether  you  have  fully  known  your  own  feelings. 
When  a  woman  highly  respects  a  man,  cordially 
esteems  him,  enjoys  his  society,  trusts  him  implicitly, 


458  THE  EOCKANOCK  STAGE. 

defends  him  from  calumny,  stands  by  him  when  others 
forsake  him,  knows  his  inmost  thoughts,  agrees  with 
him,  inspires  him  to  better  aspirations,  holds  the  reins 
of  his  destiny  in  her  hands,  is  that  ordinary  friendship? 
No  !  it  is  that  extraordinary  regard  which  constitutes 
the  basis  of  a  lifelong  union,  and  many  times  more 
than  exists  between  married  people  in  nine  cases  out 
of  ten." 

Lucy  was  staggered  by  this.  He  had  taken  her  own 
admissions  of  regard  for  him,  and  woven  them  into  a 
declaration  which  certainly  astounded  her  as  much  as 
it  encouraged  him.  Was  it  true  that  most  marriages 
were  resting  on  a  more  slender  basis  than  this?  She 
did  not  know,  but  was  compelled  to  admit  to  herself 
that  they  did  seem  to  be  so.  Could  it  be  possible  that 
love,  which  she  had  conceived  to  be  an  ineffable  emotion 
and  transport,  was  reducible  to  such  terms  as  these? 
—  a  mere  opinion  that  a  person  is  so  and  so?  —  a  cer- 
tain estimate  of  his  character?  —  a  liking  for  his  so- 
ciety?—  a  capacity  to  do  him  good?  Perhaps  so  ! 

These  questions  flashed  through  the  girl's  mind  very 
swiftly,  leaving  a  little  sense  of  pain  and  a  fluttering 
of  the  fabric  of  her  dreams.  But  the  instant  during 
which  they  held  her  in  silence  was  Mr.  MacAllan's 
opportunity. 

"Don't  give  me  your  answer  now,"  said  he.  "Take 
time  to  think  of  it,  and  to  pray  over  it.  I  can  wait. 


UNDEE    THE  GRAPEVINE.  459 

I  believe  you  will  find,  when  you  come  to  examine 
your  heart,  that  your  regard  for  me  was  far  deeper 
than  you  knew.  I  believe  that  when  you  consider 
how  God  brought  us  together,  and  adapted  us  to  each 
other,  and  put  my  very  soul  into  your  keeping,  you 
will  see  that  he  meant  us  for  each  other.  But  if  you 
finally  consign  me  to  despair  and  perdition,  it  will  be 
sweet  to  perish  by  your  hand.  Adieu,  dear  friend." 

Before  she  had  time  to  reply  or  to  collect  her 
thoughts  he  was  gone. 

"  She  only  wants  to  play  off  for  a  day  or  two,"  he 
told  himself  as  he  went  along.  "  It  is  the  way  with 
all  of  them.  They  never  r:m  say  Yes  tilt  they  have 
said  the  regulation  number  of  Noes.  She'll  come  to  it 
when  she  thinks  she  has  kept  me  on  the  tenter-hooks 
long  enough." 

Lucy  sat  for  a  time  in  bewilderment  and  distress. 
"  What  shall  I  do?"  she  asked  herself  over  and  over. 
"What  shall  I  do?  I  can't  love  him  ;  and  if  I  don't 
he  will  kill  himself,  or  lose  his  soul,  or  both ! "  The 
sound  of  passing  feet  on  the  street  warned  her  that 
people  were  returning  from  church,  and  she  arose  and 
went  sadly  toward  the  lion 

The  next  few  days  were  full  of  anxiety.  Did  she, 
indeed,  hold  this  man's  fate  in  her  hand?  Was  she 
to  blame  for  the  wretched  mistake  which  he  had  madi  ? 
Was  it  possible  that  he  was  not  mistaken?  Could  it 


460  THE  ROCKAXOCK  STAGE. 

be  that  the  feeling  which  she  had  entertained  toward 
him  was  what  he  had  taken  it  for?  Ought  she  to  try 
to  make  it  such,  for  the  sake  of  saving  him?  Each  of 
these  questions  stood  for  hours  of  perplexed  thought. 

She  wished  that  she  could  carry  them  to  Mr.  Austin. 
A  little  of  his  clear  thinking  would  be  such  a  help ! 
He  always  made  things  so  plain.  But  of  course  an 
appeal  to  him  was  impossible.  Helen  was  the  next 
best  counselor,  and  Lucy  poured  out  the  whole  pitiful 
story  to  her.  Helen  was  a  poor  reasoner,  but  sym- 
pathetic, sensible,  hopeful ;  and  even  a  hug  of  her 
plump  arms  was  worth  a  good  deal  to  the  half-dis- 
tracted girl.  The  suicide  idea  she  laughed  to  scorn. 

"  Give  yourself  no  concern  on  that  score,  Lu,"  she 
said.  "  He  is  n't  one  of  the  suiciding  sort.  He 
thinks  far  too  much  of  his  precious  person  to  do  it 
any  harm." 

"  Oh,  but,  Helen !  You  don't  know !  You  can't 
imagine  how  unhappy  he  was  —  how  utterly  wretched 
and  desperate." 

"Desperate  fiddlesticks!  He  was  only  shamming, 
child.  Don't  be  taken  in  by  so  shallow  a  trick.  Con- 
sider the  absurdity  of  his  attempting  suicide.  How 
would  he  go  about  it?  Take  poison?  He  is  too  much 
of  an  epicure  to  enjoy  it.  Hang  himself?  The  atti- 
tude would  be  too  unbecoming  to  suit  him.  Blow  his 
brains  out?  He  is  not  marksman  enough  to  hit  so 


UNDER    THE  GRAPEVINE.  461 

small  a  target.  Drown  himself?  It  would  spoil  his 
clothes.  No,  no,  dear ;  there  is  not  a  single  method 
open  to  him.  He  may  starve  through  laziness,  or  be 
hanged  for  villauy,  or  —  yes,  there  is  one  fate  that 
would  become  him  perfectly.  I  will  recommend  it  to 
him  at  once  ;  it  is  —  but  perhaps  you  mean  to  marry 
him  ! " 

'"  Marry  him  !     You  outrageous  girl !  " 

"Well,  then,"  said  Helen,  with  her  hand  on  the 
doorknob,  "  let  him  wed  some  spiteful  vixen  who  will 
peck  and  torture  him  to  death  by  inches.  That  would 
secure  the  same  end  as  suicide,  and  at  the  same  time 
afford  some  aimless  girl  useful  occupation  !  " 

Lucy  pushed  her  sister  from  the  room,  and  locked 
the  door  behind  her.  Yet,  somehow,  the  vision  of  a 
ghastly  spectacle  for  which  she  was  responsible  was 
effectually  dispelled.  She  was  still  greatly  perplexed  ; 
but  certain  conclusions  were,  one  by  one,  established 
to  her  satisfaction.  She  did  not  love  Mr.  Mac  Allan. 
She  was  not  accountable  for  his  sentiments,  or  for  his 
misapprehensions  concerning  hers.  She  could  never 
marry  him,  whatever  the  consequences  of  refusal 
might  be.  She  would  never  marry  anybody  —  never! 

.Monday  brought  an  excitement  of  a  very  ditTeivnt 
character.  The  Indian  summer  weather  was  charm  i  PIT, 
though  the  south  wind  swept  almost  fu-nvly  alon^  tin* 
dusty  streets  and  over  the  brown  stubble  lields.  Of 


462  THE  ROCKAXOCK  STAGE. 

what  it  had  been  doing  all  night  along  the  rivers  and 
the  lake  shore  in  the  distant  city ;  of  the  flames  it  had 
fanned  ;  of  the  fiery  showers  it  had  scattered ;  of  the 
roar  and  the  crash,  the  terror  of  the  flying  thousands, 
and  the  great  smoke  ascending  to  heaven,  it  breathed 
not  a  word.  An  early  traveler  from  "Warnock  brought 
word  that  a  great  fire  was  raging  in  Chicago.  But 
great  fires  in  Chicago  were  no  novelty,  and  the  news 
excited  at  first  no  special  interest  m  Rockby.  Later 
in  the  forenoon,  vagrant  rumors  came  —  the  Court- 
house was  burned,  the  Postoffice  was  burned,  the 
Chamber  of  Commerce  was  burned,  the  Michigan 
Central  Depot  was  burned,  and  so  on.  The  state- 
ments destroyed  their  own  effect  by  their  very  mag- 
nitude. What  probability  was  there  that  half  a  dozen 
different  buildings  of  such  size,  standing  so  far  apart, 
and  all  of  stone,  would  take  fire  simultaneously? 

Never  had  the  arrival  of  the  Rockauock  stage  been 
awaited  with  greater  anxiety.  Never  had  it  brought 
a  mail  so  full  of  evil  tidings.  The  wildest  rumors  had 
been  far  short  of  the  terrible  truth.  The  south  side, 
for  a  distance  of  more  than  a  mile  from  the  river,  was 
all  in  ashes,  and  now  the  flames  had  leaped  the  river 
and  were  rolling  northward,  sweeping  everything 
before  them. 

Hour  by  hour  the  story  grew  more  awful. '  Tues- 
day's news  carried  it  almost  beyond  the  bounds  of 


THE  <; RAPE  VINE.  463 

credibility  and  sent  the  wail  of  the  stricken  city  around 
the  world. 

Mr.  Austin  was  the  first  soul  in  Rockby  to  discover 
in  the  calamity  a  demand  for  charitable  effort.  Before 
any  call  for  relief  had  been  sounded,  before  even  the 
extent  of  the  catastrophe  was  known,  he  rang  the 
church  bell  with  his  own  hands  till  the  whole  town 
came  flocking  to  the  door.  He  made  a  stirring  speech, 
called  for  subscriptions,  had  a  board  of  relief  organ- 
ized, turned  his  church  into  a  depot  of  supplies,  set 
ovens,  needles,  and  wagons  going,  and  within  forty- 
eight  hours  was  himself  in  Chicago  with  a  carload  of 
relief  stores  and  a  promise  of  more  to  follow. 

All  knowledge  of  the  fire  was  carefully  kept  from 
the  major,  although  it  involved  the  loss  of  every  build- 
ing owned  by  him,  excepting  two  or  three  dwelling- 
houses  on  the  west  side.  Mr.  Fisk  wrote  to  Lucy 
giving  full  particulars  as  fast  as  they  could  be  gathered, 
and  also  informed  her  of  the  destruction  of  the 
property  in  which  her  own  fortune  was  invested.  The 
perplexities  which  harassed  her  at  the  time  prevented 
her  dwelling  much  upon  these  losses,  but  she  gave  the 
subject  sufficient  attention  to  understand  that  her  in- 
come was  to  cease  for  a  time  at  least,  and  that  she 
must  find  a  way  to  replace  it  by  her  own  exertions. 
How  this  was  to  be  done  she  did  not  clearly  see,  but 
she  had  no  doubt  that  it  could  be  done,  and  she  quite 
relished  the  prospect  of  making  the  experiment. 


4  04  THE   KOrKAXW.'K  STAGE. 


Meantime"  the  major  was  getting  better  and  the 
scandal  was  getting  worse  every  day.  People  began 
to  talk  of  the  necessity  for  a  trial,  civil  or  ecclesiasti- 
cal, or  both,  to  bring  out  the  facts  and  settle  the  thing 
one  way  or  the  other.  Mr.  Austin  was  neither  or- 
dained nor  a  member  of  the  Rockby  church,  and  held 
his  licensure  from  a  ministerial  association  in  New 
England  An  ecclesiastical  trial  was,  therefore,  not 
so  easily  accomplished.  Ought  he  to  resort  to  the 
courts?  Whom  could  he  prosecute?  The  rumors 
were  impersonal.  They  could  not  be  traced  to  respon- 
sible authors.  They  merely  pervaded  the  atmosphere, 
and  the  atmosphere  could  not  sue  or  be  sued. 

The  fire  was  a  stunning  blow  to  Mr.  MacAllan. 
A  letter  from  Pack  on  Monday  bade  him  stop  his  woo- 
ing until  further  notice,  as  the  probability  was  that  the 
major  had  lost  almost  his  entire  property,  and  that  the 
safe  containing  his  private  papers,  including  the  will, 
of  course,  was  lying  red  hot  on  a  heap  of  burning 
coal  in  the  Gibson  Block  cellar. 

Mr.  MacAllan  did  not  need  to  be  told  what  this 
signified  to  him.  If  the  will  was  destroyed,  the  scheme 
which  had  been  based  upon  it  must  fall  to  the  ground 
unless  another  similar  one  should  be  written.  He  con- 
cluded that  he  had  been  too  hasty  in  wishing  the  major 
to  die.  But  if  the  property  was  destroyed,  a  hundred 
wills  could  not  restore  it.  Pack's  caution  was  need- 


UNDER    THE   HRAPEVIXE.  465 

less.  There  would  be  no  more  wooing  at  present. 
How  fortunate  that  the  thing  was  left  just  where  it 
was  1  He  could  wait  indefinitely,  under  pretense  of 
giving  her  time.  If  the  renewal  of  negotiations  after 
a  while  proved  desirable,  he  could  easily  manage  it  so 
as  to  save  appearances  ;  if  not,  why,  of  course,  they 
were  not  worth  saving.  lit-  would  not  give  up  all 
hope,  however,  till  he  heard  again  from  Pack. 

He  heard.  The  safe  had  been  rescued,  cooled,  and 
opened  ;  but  it  contained  only  ashes.  The  major's 
property  Ijad  been  chiefly  in  buildings  on  leased  laud, 
and.  saving  a  house  or  two  of  no  account,  all  was 
gone.  He  might  recover  a  considerable  amount  as 
insurance,  but  that  was  yet  uncertain,  as  the  losses  in 
the  city  were  so  immense  that  they  would  probably 
bankrupt  every  American  company  that  was  touched 
by  them.  Pack's  own  house  had  been  burned,  with  all 
their  goods  and  clothing  except  what  they  had  on  their 
backs.  They  had  barely  escaped  with  their  lives. 
Krauntz  had  been  burned  out  also.  Pack  had  not 
seen  him  since  the  fire  and  did  not  know  how  heavy 
his  losses  were,  probably  very  severe. 

"  What  the  future  will  bring  forth,"  the  letter  went 
on  to  say,  u  I  cannot  say.  But  I  think  we  shall  go 
right  on.  with  the  Ottway  scheme  and  work  up  others 
of  the  same  sort.  All  the  more  need  now  of  picking 
up  such  crumbs.  Don't  be  down  in  the  mouth,  old 


466  THE  EOCKANOCK  STAGE. 

boy.  Think  what  a  narrow  escape  you've  had.  Sup- 
pose you  had  married  her,  or  were  even  engaged  ! 
Well,  you  are  not,  and  we  '11  pick  up  another  heiress 
for  you  somewhere.  The  poor  elder  is  dead — killed 
in  trying  to  save  the  church.  We  are  making  up  a 
little  contribution  for  his  family,  who  are  left  very 
destitute.  If  you  feel  like  giving  them  five  or  ten 
dollars,  send  it  to  me." 

"Hear  the  fellow!"  growled  MacAllan.  "Keeps 
me  on  a  five  months'  chase  after  the  end  of  a  rainbow  ; 
helps  his  pals  to  rob  me  of  every  dollar  they  can  get 
their  hands  on  ;  and  now  coolly  informs  me  that  the 
rainbow  is  a  delusion,  and  passes  the  contribution  box 
for  what  small  change  I  have  left,  if  I  feel  like  it ! 
Well,  I  don't.  I  've  made  my  last  donation  to  the 
elder,  dead  or  alive  !  " 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

MR.    MACJASON. 

IV  /TR.  MACALLAN  not  only  felt  bitterly  the  dis- 
-Lyj-  appointment  which  had  befallen  him,  in  the 
ruin  of  his  matrimonial  and  financial  prospects,  but 
held  Lucy  herself  to  be  to  blame  for  it.  If  it  had  not 
been  for  her,  he  would  never  have  undertaken  this 
losing  game,  and  she  ought  in  some  way  to  be  punished 
for  his  ill  fortune.  Of  course  she  would  now  be  glad 
enough  to  accept  his  attentions  and  himself.  He 
would  give  her  a  chance  to  signify  as  much  to  him, 
and  then,  when  she  was  fairly  committed,  would  de- 
nounce her  as  a  coquette,  tell  her  that  he  knew  of  her 
secret  flirtations  with  the  minister,  and  overwhelm  her 
with  reproaches. 

Again  she  seemed  to  elude  him.  Almost  two  weeks 
had  passed  since  the  fire,  when  they,  one  day,  met  by 
chance  in  Deacon  Wauberton's  sitting  room.  Lucy 
had  sat  down  a  moment  at  the  little  cabinet  organ, 
awaiting  the  return  of  Maggie,  who  had  stepped  into 
the  parlor  for  a  book,  leaving  the  door  open  behind 
her. 

Lucy  lifted  her  eyes  as  Mr.  MacAllan  entered  the 
467 


468  THE  EOCKANOCK  STAGE. 

room,  but  seeing  who  it  was,  went  on  running  her 
fingers  over  the  keys,  and  took  no  further  notice  of 
him. 

"Good  morning,  Miss  Darling!"  he  said  in  what 
was  meant  for  a  freezing  tone. 

She  turned  about  upon  the  organ  stool  and  looked 
at  him  a  moment,  with  what  was  unquestionably  a 
freezing  glance.  "Will  you  leave  the  room,  sir?  or 
must  I?" 

If  she  had  wished  to  conquer  him  at  a  single  blow, 
she  could  not  have  dealt  one  more  effective.  This  was 
something  for  which  he  was  not  prepared,  and  against 
which  he  had  no  defense.  All  his  studied  speeches 
forsook  him.  How  beautiful,  how  statuesque  she  was  ! 
How  finely  this  scornful  mood  became  her !  Again  he 
discovered  that  he  loved  her ;  yes,  her.  In  truth,  she 
had  never  so  enchanted  him  as  at  this  moment.  He 
must  have  her,  fortune  or  no  fortune.  He  would  defy 
Pack,  and  all  the  world,  if  need  be,  and  marry  her. 

"Miss  Darling,"  he  said  pathetically,  "you  will 
kill  me  if  you  look  and  speak  in  that  way !  Oh,  what 
has  happened  that  I  should  be  so  cruelly  treated  ?  " 

"A  good  many  things  have  happened,  sir;  and  I 
have  happened  to  discover  that  you  are  a  villain." 

"Oh,  what  dreadful  mistake  is  this?  I  am  the 
victim  of  some  malicious  slander.  You  never  could 
have  entertained  such  a  thought  in  your  noble,  gener- 


469 


Oils  mind,  unless  it  had  been  insinuated  then;  by   base 
calumniators." 

"  Present  company  cxcepted,  I  do  not  enjoy  the 
acquaintance  of  base  calumniators." 

"  Oh,  this  is  dreadful,  dreadful  !  If  you  knew  how 
T  adore  you  !  "  — 

"  I  think  I  do,  rather  more  accurately  than  you 
imagine." 

"How  I  have  loved  to  na/.e  upon  your  !' 

"  Through  your  field  glass  !  " 

The  thrust  was  a  telling  one,  but  he  would  not  wince. 
"  Yes,"  he  replied,  "  through  my  fit-Id  glass  —  the  only 
means  I  had  of  bringing  my  beloved  one  near  to  me." 
He  sighed  profoundly.  '•  Oh,  what  shall  I  do?  What 
shall  I  do?" 

"  If  the  question  be  addressed  to  me,"  said  Lucy 
coolly,  "  I  would  suggest  that  you  stop  this  disgusting 
pretense  of  love-making,  repent  of  your  sins,  and  bring 
forth  fruits  meet  for  repentance." 

Pretense!  No,  to  do  the  fellow  justice,  his  1m.  > 
for  her  was  sincere,  though  the  tissue  of  lies  with 
which  he  had  surrounded  it  rendered  him  incapable  of 
proving  his  sincerity.  He  lifted  his  hand  in  the  air 
and  said  solemnl  -  Darling,  I  swear  before 

high  heaven  that  I  love  you  with  all  my  li 

"  The  blasphemy  is  quite  gratuitous."  she  said. 
"Neither  heaven  nor  myself  would  believe  you  under 
oath." 


470  THE  IIOCKANOCK  STAGE. 

"Oh,  this  is  more  than  I  can  bear!"  he  groaned. 
'-  Why  should  I  prolong  ray  hopeless  existence?" 

"  I  see  no  good  reason  for  it,"  she  answered  naively. 

"  No,  alas !  you  do  not.  Therefore  there  is  none. 
I  will  go  and  end  it." 

''  Consult  your  own  inclinations  about  that,"  she 
said.  "  Do  not  defer  the  ceremony  on  my  account." 

"  Farewell,  then  !  "  said  he  tragically,  and  almost  in 
tears.  "There  is  now  nothing  left  me  but  to  die. 
Have  you  not  one  parting  word  for  me?" 

"  Yes.  When  you  meet  Death,  speak  the  truth  to 
him.  It  will  surprise  him  and  fatigue  you  ;  but  as 
you  seem  to  be  in  a  rather  morbid  state  of  mind,  a 
change  may  benefit  you.  In  the  world  to  which  you 
go,  shams  are  not  in  demand.  People  there  live  on 
the  interest  of  their  past  lies." 

'•And  this,"  said  he  with  his  hand  upon  his  heart, 
and  assuming  the  most  dramatic  attitude  of  which  he 
was  capable,  "  this  is  the  woman  whom  I  have  so 
adored,  whom  I  still  adore,  whom  I  will  adore,  till  the 
last  drop  of  blood  oozes  "  — 

"•You  have  decided  upon  the  gory  method,  then! 
I  should  have  supposed  some  other  would  please  you 
better,  but  it  is  a  matter  of  taste." 

"Go  on!"  said  the  tragedian  meekly.  "Your 
voice  is  sweet  to  me,  even  in  this  cruel  mockery.  It 
is  the  only  voice  that  ever  stirred  my  heart." 


471 

"You  forget  Miss  Burr,  of  Baltimore,  whom  you 
deserted  on  account  of  her  father's  bankruptcy ;  and 
Miss  Elsie  Le  Sieur,  of  Georgetown,  whom  you  drove, 
by  insuttVralile  insult,  to  break  her  engagement  with 
you,  because  you  discovered  a  mathematical  error  in 
your  computation  of  her  fortune.  You  forget  the 
Misses  Shirley  and  Danton,  heiresses,  of  Washington, 
for  each  of  whom  in  successive  seasons  you  unsuc- 
cessfully professed  to  be  dying,  as  you  are  now  for 
me.  You  stran^i-ly  forget,  also,  the  rich  widow,  Mrs. 
Colonel  Forrestold,  of  uncertain  age  but  of  captivating 
bank  account,  who  laughed  your  fine  speeches  to 
scorn.  And  now  you  come  here  and  offer  to  me,  who 
am,  it  may  be,  your  nineteenth  or  twentieth  annual 
first  love,  the  same  old  fiction,  and  expect  me  to 
believe  it.  It  has  about  it,  I  admit,  the  charm  of 
hallowed  associations,  but  it  lacks  freshness  and 
piquancy." 

Mr.  MacAllan  was  amazed  but  not  silenced.  The 
length  of  Lucy's  speech  gave  him  time  to  recover  him- 
self. Of  course  a  denial  of  the  facts  cited,  however 
she  had  come  by  them,  was  idle.  The  items  were  too 
numerous  and  too  specific.  He  sank  into  a  chair. 

"lam  glad  you  have  alluded  to  these  things,"  lie 
said.     "  You  give  me  a  chance  for  explanation.     It   H 
true    that,  urged    by  ambitions    friends    and    oli;< 
matchmakers,  I  did  make  advances  to  thi.---"'  la<li>-       I 


472  THE  ROCKANOCK  STAGE. 

even  persuaded  myself  that  I  was  fond  of  them.  But 
I  had  not  seen  you.  As  I  have  before  told  you,  from 
the  moment  that  I  looked  upon  your  sweet  face  "  — 

"  Mr.  MacAllan,"  said  Lucy,  rising  angrily,  "  I  will 
thank  you  not  to  insult  me  with  any  more  of  your 
sentimental  falsehoods.  It  is  high  time  that  this 
farce  was  brought  to  an  cud.  Except  for  others'  sake, 
I  would  not  have  lowered  myself  to  hold  this  conversa- 
tion with  you.  But  I  thought  it  might  possibly  check 
your  course  of  evil  doing  in  this  place,  and  so  save 
some  needless  suffering  on  the  part  of  your  victims,  if 
you  knew,  once  for  all,  that  your  character  and  history 
are  thoroughly  known  in  Rockby.  We  know  you  to  be 
a  mercenary,  false,  hypocritical,  heartless,  conscience- 
less adventurer,  a  despicable  slanderer,  a  remorseless 
robber." 

"  Hear  me  a  moment,  Miss  Darling.  Just  one 
moment." 

"  No,  sir,  I  will  not !  You  shall  hear  me  !  I  know 
the  history  of  your  adventures  here  and  elsewhere.  I 
know  the  story  of  your  matrimonial  enterprises  at  the 
East,  where  your  persistent  search  for  marriageable 
golden  fleeces  earned  you  the  name  of  '  MacJason.' 
I  know  why  you  insinuated  yourself  into  our  song 
circle  at  the  Tremont  House  ;  why  you  came  to  Rockby 
in  advance  of  me ;  why  you  attempted  to  ride  with 
me  in  the  stage ;  why  you  made  friends  with  Mr. 


473 

Austin  and  with  Major  Gibson;  why  you  attended  our 
church  ;  why  you  entered  the  choir :  why  you  sought 
my  acquaintance  ;  why  yon  participated  in  the  Ottway 
land  theft ;  why  yon  pretended  to  withdraw  from  it 
and  did  not;  why  yon  pursued  me  with  your  counter- 
feit attentions.  I  know  the  contemptible,  mercenary 
motive  which  has  actual. -d  yon  from  first  to  last." 

He  made  one  more  effort  to  defend  himself.  "  Let 
me  ask  you."  lie  said  humbly,  "  how,  upon  your  theory 
of  a  mercenary  motive,  you  account  for  my  renewing 
my  protestations  of  affection,  after  I  knew  that  your 
property  w:is  destroyed." 

"I  do  not  quite  understand  it,"  she  replied  frankly. 
"  But  I  know  there  is  some  base  design  at  the  bottom 
of  it,  because  you  are  incapable  of  any  other." 

"  I  suppose  it  is  useless  for  me  to  make  any  state- 
ment on  the  subject.  You  would  attach  no  consequence 
to  anything  I  might  say." 

"  On  the  contrary,"  she  retorted,"!  should  accept 
it  as  conclusive;  for,  whatever  it  was,  I  should  know 
that  the  exact  opposite  of  it  was  the  truth!  " 

Without  giving  him  time  for  a  rejoinder,  she  went 
on:  "I  am  fully  informed  of  all  the  details  of  your 
scheme,  and  how  you  obtained  your  means  to  prose- 
cute it  from  one  Krauntx,  and  instructions  in  the  arts 
of  rascality  from  one  Pack,  and  fictitious  influence 
from  the  fictitious  elder.  I  know  the  truth  about  the 


474  THE  EOCKANOCK  STAGE. 

surveying  versus  hunting  expedition  to  the  Ottway 
Tract,  and  the  falsehood  about  your  pretended  with- 
drawal from  the  piratical  scheme.  I  know  your  ex- 
ploits as  a  sham  invalid,  as  a  sham  religious  inquirer, 
as  a  real  spy  and  impostor,  as  an  adept  in  the  use  and 
abuse  of  optical  instruments.  I  know  that  you  and 
your  accomplices  are  the  authors  of  the  infamous 
slander  by  which  you  are  seeking  to  ruin  the  character 
of  a  noble  and  blameless  man.  I  know  by  precisely 
what  means  you  have  propagated  it,  and  what  you 
hope  to  accomplish  by  it.  I  know  that  you  hoped 
Major  Gibson's  sickness  would  prove  fatal,  and  that 
you  secretly  threatened  his  life,  and  Mr.  Austin's,  and 
my  own  !  All  this  I  know  —  v:e  kuow  ;  for  others 
share  the  knowledge  with  me,  and  we  are  prepared  to 
prove  every  item  of  it  when  the  time  comes." 

This  was  a  longer  speech  than  the  preceding  one 
had  been,  but  Mr.  MacAllan  found  no  answer  to  it 
and  attempted  none.  He  shrank  and  cowed  before  it 
like  a  convicted  criminal,  looking  more  and  more 
abject  every  moment.  AU  the  ingenious  concealments 
in  which  he  had  so  confidently  trusted  were  stripped 
from  him.  He  sat  before  the  woman,  to  win  whom  ho 
had  staked  and  lost  everything,  au  unmasked  villain. 
Yet  her  power  over  him  had  never  been  so  great  as  at 
this  moment.  She  compelled  him  to  look  at  himself 
in  the  light  of  her  own  purity,  to  think  of  himself  as 


.v/,'.  .v.ir./.i.vo.v.  475 

she  thought  of  him,  to  despise  himself  as  she  despised 
him. 

"We  have  in  our  hands,  sir,"  she  added  slowly, 
"  the  means  of  exposing  your  villanies,  and  we  pro- 
pose to  use  them.  Your  career  as  an  impostor  and 
calumniator  is  at  an  end,  though  you  are  likely  to 
figure  in  Another  capacity,  quite  as  sensational!" 

The  words  did  not  terrify  him.  The  spell  of  her 
personality  was  upon  him,  and  was  stronger  than  his 
fears.  '•  Miss  Darling,"  he  said  calmly,  "  you  will  do 
perfectly  right  to  expose  and  punish  me.  I  deserve  it; 
I  am  all.  and  worse  than  all,  that  you  make  me." 

'•  What  new  hypocrisy  is  this?  "  said  she  scornfully. 

"•  No  wonder  you  think  it  so,"  he  answered,  "  hut  it 
is  not.  You  believe  me  capable  of  nothing  but  deceit. 
You  are  mistaken.  I  have  known  many  honorable 
impulses  within  the  last  few  months,  and  they  were 
due  solely  to  your  influence.  They  are  the  bright 
spots  in  this  wretched  life  of  deceit  which  I  have  lived, 
and  their  memory  can  never  be  taken  from  me,  what- 
ever you  do  to  me." 

Either  this  was  a  spasm  of  sincerity  or  a  very  clever 
imitation  of  it.  Lucy  gave  the  wretched  man  the. 
benefit  of  the  doubt. 

"The  memory  of  an  occasional  good  impulse  is  a 
pretty  small  moral  capital,"  she  said. 

"It  is  a  delicious  torment,"  he  replied  ;  "  for  it  teacheg 


470  THE  ROCKANOCK  STAGE. 

me  that  if,  before  I  became  entangled  in  this  fatal  net- 
work of  lies,  I  had  met  you  as  an  honorable  man,  you 
might  sometime  have  learned  to  care  for  me." 

"It  is  not  impossible,"  said  Lucy  candidly.  "I 
liked  you,  and  thought  you  very  agreeable,  till  I  found 
you  out." 

"Miss  Darling,"  said  he,  rising  and  facing  her,  "  I 
know  it  is  useless  for  me  to  profess  any  sincerity  or 
any  virtuous  intentions,  for  you  believe  me  incapable 
of  either."  , 

' '  I  shall  be  ready  to  entertain  a  better  opinion  of 
you,  sir,  whenever  you  deserve  it,"  she  replied. 

"May  I  understand  that  as  a  promise?"  he  asked 
earnestly. 

"Certainly;  a  promise  with  a  condition  attached." 

"  I  shall  cherish  it,  rather,  as  a  promise  with  a  mo- 
tive attached  —  the  strongest  incentive  that  could 
possibly  be  given  me.  I  know  well  that  I  am  speaking 
my  last  words  to  you,  and  that  you  will  deride  them  as 
lies,  but  your  God  knows  they  are  not.  There  is 
nothing  that  I  so  much  desire  as  to  have  you  believe 
that  there  is  some  little  grain  of  good  in  me." 

"I  would  rather  you  would  reform  for  my  sake  than 
not  at  all ;  but  it  is  impossible  for  me  to  set  so  much 
value  upon  your  reformation  unless  it  comes  from  a 
desire  to  do  right,  and  to  undo  the  wrongs  that  you 
have  committed." 


MR.   MACJASOX.  477 

"To  do  right  and  to  do  what  you  wish  are  one  and 
the  same  thing." 

He  said  it  in  a  way  that  was  at  the  farthest  possible 
remove  from  flattery.  He  had  strangely  altered  his 
opinion  of  this  girl  whom  he  was  just  now  ready  to 
denounce  as  a  coquette,  as  she  stood  before  him,  in  her 
fierce  denunciation  of  his  falseness,  embodying  and 
glorifying  truih,  and  compelling  him  to  admit  it.  "  If 
I  had  known  you  soon  enough,"  he  said  in  a  tone  that 
touched  her  heart,  "  I  might  have  been  a  man  instead 
of  the  devil  I  am." 

*•  Be  a  man  !  "  she  said  vehemently,  and  involuntarily 
taking  a  step  toward  him  — the  first  sign  that  her  dis- 
trust was  abating. 

"  It  is  too  late  !  "  he  answered. 

4 '  It  is  never  too  late,"  she  rejoined. 

"  Before  the  sun  goes  down  to-day,"  said  he,  "  you 
will  know  that  at  last  I  have  begun  to  tell  the  truth." 

"God  help  you  to  keep  your  promise  and  me  to 
believe  it !  "  she  said  as  he  turned  and  without  another 
word  left  the  room. 

Lucy  was  no  sooner  alone  than  she  remembered, 
what  she  had  quite  forgotten  since  this  exciting  inter- 
view began,  that  Maggie  had  been  in  the  next  room, 
and  must  have  heard  every  word  that  had  been  spoken. 
She  hastened  to  the  parlor.  It  was  empty,  and  the 
door  at  its  farther  end  was  open.  Lucy  was  at  uo  lo*3 


478  THE  ROCKANOCK  STAGE. 

to  interpret  these  signs.  Maggie  had  heard  the  first 
part  of  the  conversation,  and,  finding  it  both  private 
and  distressing,  had  noiselessly  left  the  room.  Lucy 
followed  her  to  the  little  chamber  where  she  felt  sure 
of  finding  her.  And  there,  indeed,  on  the  bed,  her 
face  buried  in  the  pillows,  lay  the  grieving  girl. 

"Poor  Maggie  !"  said  Lucy,  bending  over  her,  and 
kissing  the  visible  margin  of  the  hot  cheek. 

"Go  away!"  she  cried  passionately.  "Don't 
touch  me  !  You  are  a  cruel,  wicked  girl !  " 

"Maggie!  " 

"  You  believe  the  lies  people  tell  about  him,  and 
won't  let  him  explain  himself,  but  sneer  at  him,  and 
break  his  heart.  Go  away,  I  say !  " 

"Do  not  drive  me  away,  dear  Maggie,"  said  Lucy 
pathetically.  "  I  have  the  heartache,  too.  Let  me  lie 
down  here  and  cry  with  you." 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

THE    HLACK    GIANT. 

TT  was  on  the  afternoon  of  that  same  day  that  Lucy, 
partly  upon  the  doctor's  prescription,  partly  upon 
the  minister's  invitation,  again  accompanied  him  on  a 
benevolent  visit  to  the  Ottway  Tract.  The  October 
sun  shone  its  brightest.  The  air  was  full  of  autumn 
sounds  and  odors.  Rosey  jogged  leisurely  on,  up  hill 
and  down  hill,  through  the  fragrant  woods  where 
squirrels  were  chattering,  and  among  the  tawny  fields 
whose  dull  yellow  the  plows  were  turning  to  brown 
and  black.  She  chose  her  own  gait,  and  under  a  slack 
rein,  and  with  no  fear  of  lash  or  rebuke,  nipped  at 
wayside  weeds,  and  kicked,  switched,  twitched,  and 
bit  in  an  unceasing  skirmish  with  the  flies.  She  was 
evidently  on  the  best  of  terms  with  the  occupants  of 
the  phaeton,  and  in  no  danger  of  disturbing  their 
conversation. 

"  Do  you  know  what  day  of  the  month  it  is,  Lucy?" 
asked  the  driver. 

u  Yes,  the  twenty-first,"  she  said  with  a  little  flutter 
of  the  hearl  at  hearing  her  first  name  from  his  lips. 
It  was  only  very  recently  that  lie  had  begun  to  call  her 
so,  and  the  sound  was  \ei y  sweet  to  her. 

47i> 


480  THE  JIOCKANOCK  STAGE. 

"  Do  you  remember  two  months  ago  to-day?" 

"  Indeed  I  do.  We  were  riding  in  this  same  phaeton 
together,  along  this  very  road,  on  our  way  to  Deacon 
Lorimer's.  I  was  just  now  wondering  if  you  thought 
of  the  coincidence." 

"  I  am  not  likely  to  forget  that  ride ;  but  it  seems 
more  like  years  than  months  since  it  happened." 

"I  hope  we  are  not  riding  to  any  one's  deathbed 
to-day." 

"It  is  not  likely.  Mr.  Jiles  is  improving,  rather 
than  otherwise,  and  your  negro  proteg£  is  not  in  im- 
mediate danger,  if  the  doctor  is  right." 

"It  is  too  bad  in  Tom  to  ridicule  poor  Nancy  so. 
He  insists  upon  it  that  she  is  only  shamming  sickness  ; 
but  it  is  absurd  to  imagine  such  a  thing.  She  does  n't 
know  enough  to  do  it.  Besides,  what  motive  could 
she  have  ?  " 

"You  always  judge  people  charitably,"  he  said. 

"  I  know  very  well,"  she  replied,  "  that  by  charity 
in  my  case  you  mean  an  amiable  stupidity  ;  but  wait 
and  see."  It  was  a  rather  embarrassing  topic  for  both 
of  them.  She  believed  him  to  be  thinking  of  her 
charity  for  Mr.  Mac  Allan,  and  he  believed  her  to  be 
thinking  of  her  charity  toward  himself.  By  common 
consent  they  turned  to  impersonal  matters.  They 
spoke  of  the  tree  that  was  suffered  to  stand  so  near 
the  roadside,  and  agreed  that  in  a  dark  night  it  was 


mi-:  iti.M'K  <;/A.\"/:  481 

liable  to  cause  a  serious  accident.  They  noticed  the 
threshing  machines  in  operation  here  and  there,  with 
their  gangs  of  rough  and  loud-mouthed  men.  They 
talked  of  the  present  aspect  of  the  Ottway  suit,  which 
had  been  freely  discussed  with  Mr.  Austin  as  a  trusted 
member  of  the  family. 

Lucy  alighted  at  the  entrance  of  a  footpath  loading 
to  a  small,  new  hut  a  short  distance  from  the  roadside. 
Mr.  Austin  was  to  make  a  call  a  mile  or  two  away,  and 
return  for  her  in  an  hour. 

The  hut  was  roughly  built  of  unplaned  boards,  and 
was  scarcely  bigger  than  a  kennel.  It  had  been  drawn 
there  in  the  night  on  a  two-horse  wagon,  behind  which 
another  wagon  brought  a  bed,  a  frying  pan  and  an  iron 
kettle  for  camp-fire  service,  a  bag  of  corn  meal,  a  rifle, 
and  a  negro  couple  calling  themselves  Jackson.  Tin- 
man was  intensely  black  and  as  big  as  a  son  of  Anak. 
The  woman  was  a  comely  mulatto,  fat  ami  hilarious. 
This  was  the  "  young  couple  "  whom  Nat  Jennings  had 
proposed  to  set  up  at  housekeeping  on  the  disputed 
territory.  It  was  their  business  to  maintain  right  of 
possession  until  better  title  could  be  gained,  subject  to 
the  orders  of  Jennings,  and  conlidentially  of  .Mr.  Mac- 
Allan.  The  suddenness  of  the  move  had  taken  tin- 
neighbors  by  surprise.  The  bigness  of  the  man,  his 
evil  looks,  his  rille,  and  the  sheath  knife  which  he  wore 
in  his  belt  did  much  to  secure  the  intruders  from 


482  TLI-:  POCKAXOCK  STAGE. 

molestation.  Moreover,  either  from  the  fatigue  of  the 
journey,  the  unhealthfulness  of  the  locality,  or  some 
other  reason,  the  woman  fell  sick  and  immediately 
took  to  her  bed,  rendering  ejectment  proceedings  im- 
practicable. The  kind-hearted  neighbors  pitied  her, 
made  visits  of  sympathy,  carried  her  delicacies,  and 
raised  a  subscription  for  her  relief.  Lucy  heard  of  her 
through  the  Rices,  and  not  only  visited  her,  but  per- 
suaded the  doctor  to  do  so,  and  was  all  the  more  atten- 
tive to  her  when  he  pronounced  her  sickness  spurious. 

"  Laws,  Miss  Lucy,  dat  you  ?  "  exclaimed  the  invalid 
as  the  Sister  of  Charity  entered.  "Now,  ain't  dat  ar 
cur'us.  Shoze  yu  born,  me  'n'  Abruni  wuz  jist  a-talkin' 
boutcher,  this  blessed  minute;  wa'n't  we,  Abrum?" 

Abram  assented. 

"  An'  I  sez  ter  Abrum,  sez  I,  '  Abrum,  it 's  bored 
in  on  me  't  Miss  Lucy  's  sommers  'round  hyar.'  An' 
Abrum,  he  uppeii  sez,  sez  zee,  *  Sho,  Nance,  Miss 
Lucy  's  too  nice  an'  pootty  an'  rich  to  be  runnin'  rouii' 
atter  a  po'  nigger  lak  yo'  be.'  An'  I  shet  my  eyes  up, 
thisaway,  an'  sez  I,  '  Abrum,  I  kin  see  Miss  Lucy  's 
plain  's  daylight,  a-ridin'  right  along  the  road.'  An' 
de  wuds  wuzzent  mo'  'n  out  o'  my  motif  when  I  heerd 
de  kerridge  stop." 

Lucy  listened  patiently  to  this  fiction,  made  kind 
inquiries  after  Nancy's  health,  and  unfolded  some 
packages  wl^-h  she  hod  brought. 


THE  BLACK  GIANT.  483 

"  Dar  now!  see  dat  blessed  angel!  If  dis  hyar 
ain't  jis  lak  'Lijah  'n'  de  ravuns  !  " 

"  Why  did  n't  yer  bring  de  elder  in,  Miss  Lucy?" 
asked  Abram. 

"He  has  gone  to  visit  Mr.  Jiles,"  she  said,  "  and 
will  stop  for  me  when  he  comes  back." 

"  How  long  's  he  gwine  ter  be  gone?  " 

"  Perhaps  an  hour." 

'•  Wall,  Nance,"  said  Abram,  reaching  for  his  rifle, 
"  ef  Miss  Lucy  's  gwine  fer  ter  set  with  ye  that  long, 
I  '11  jes  gwout  'n'  shoot  a  squir'l  fer  yer  supper.  We 
hain't  got  no  meat  ceppen  salt  pork,  an'  yo'  appetite  's 
so  'mazin'  pore." 

"  Be  keerful  'n'  not  shoot  yerself,  den,  honey,"  said 
Nancy. 

Lucy  was  relieved  to  have  him  gone.  She  felt  an 
unaccountable  fear  of  the  great  black  fellow,  though 
he  always  treated  her  with  obsequious  respect. 

The  hour  passed,  l>nt  Mr.  Austin  did  not  return. 
Another  hour  passed  without  bringing  him. 

"  .Mr.  Jiles  nlust  be  worse,"  said  Lucy. 

The  sun  went  down,  and  still  he  did  not  come. 
Abram  returned  with  his  rille.  "War's  yo'  squir'l, 
Alu-utn?"  said  Nance.  "  I  heerd  yrr  pin  hang  «>1Y." 

"  Yis,  I  tooken  shot  at  a  squir'l's  eye,  look  in'  outa\ .  r 
hole,  but  he  drapped  down  in  the  hole,  'n'  I  could  n't 
git  him." 


484  THE  EOCKANOCK  STAGE. 

Lucy  began  to  be  alarmed  at  the  absence  of  Mr. 
Austin.  Something  must  have  happened ;  but  why 
had  he  not  sent  her  word  ?  She  asked  Abram  to  go 
over  to  Mr.  Rice's  and  request  him  to  harness  a  horse 
and  come  to  her  as  quickly  as  possible.  Abram  read- 
ily consented,  again  taking  his  rifle,  as  he  "  mout 
meet  up  with  a  squir'l  on  the  way."  Mr.  Rice  was  the 
nearest  neighbor,  and  lived  rather  more  than  half  a 
mile  distant.  Lucy  estimated  that  half  an  hour  would 
suffice  to  bring  him  to  her.  But  three  half-hours 
went  by,  and  still  there  was  no  sign  of  either  him  or 
Abram. 

"  Dat  fool  nigger  's  done  got  atter  a  squir'l,  V  for- 
got all  'bout  de  waggin,"  said  Nancy. 

"  He  is  not  hunting  squirrels  in  the  dark,"  replied 
Lucy. 

It  was,  indeed,  quite  dark.  The  evening  had 
brought  heavy  clouds,  completely  hiding  the  moon  and 
the  stars.  At  last  Abram  came  in.  "Mr.  Rice  sez 
de  waggin  done  got  broke,  but  he  '11  fix  it  up  V  come 
right  over  atter  ye." 

Another  half-hour  of  waiting  made  Lucy  almost 
frantic. 

"What  does  this  mean?"  she  cried.  "Oh,  what 
can  it  mean  ?  " 

Fear  for  her  own  safety  began  to  mingle  with  her 
anxiety  for  Mr.  Austin.  She  imagined  that  she  felt 


THE  BLACK  GIAXT.  485 

the  eyes  of  the  negro,  and  glancing  suddenly  at  him, 
detected  a  look  on  his  face  that  turned  her  own  pale. 
He  came  nearer  to  her,  grinning  like  a  black  demon, 
and  when  he  spoke  she  smelled  the  odor  of  whiskey  in 
bib  breath. 

"  Don't  you  be  skeert,  honey,"  said  he  with  a  leer, 
that  seemed  to  grow  more  maudlin  and  diabolical  with 
every  word.  "  I  '11  show  you  de  way  troo  de  woods 
over  ter  Rice's.  'T  ain't  more  'n  a  hundred  rod,  an' 
den  you  kin  make  de  rangemunce  yerself.  Come 
along,  honey." 

A  shudder  was  Lucy's  only  answer.  The  fellow 
came  nearer,  looking  more  dangerous. 

"  Ef  yo'  don't  do  dat,  miss,"  said  he,  "yo*  gotter 
stay  here  all  night." 

He  stepped  close  to  her.  The  demon  in  his  face 
was  horrible  to  see.  I^ucy  stood  trembling  before  him, 
like  a  bird  under  the  cruel  fascination  of  a  serpent. 
Her  tongue  was  paralyzed.  Her  limbs  were  stone. 
She  felt  the  blood  sink  away  from  her  face  and  from 
lici  brain.  A  deathly  sickness  came  upon  her.  The 
fiendish  image  began  to  swim  before  her  eyes.  Was 
she  going  to  drop  dead  where  she  stood?  She  almost 
hoped  so ! 

He  reached  out  his  hand  and  laid  it  on  her  shoulder. 
The  touch  broke  the  serpent's  spell.  Instantly  lit-r 
trepidation  ceased,  and  instead  of  tlu:  rigidity  of  stone, 


486  THE  ROCKAXOCK  STAGE. 

she  felt  the  strength  of  steel.  Her  mind  was  preter- 
naturally  clear.  She  seemed  to  do  hours  of  thinking 
in  an  instant.  She  was  in  the  clutches  of  a  monster. 
He  had  contrived  to  keep  her  there.  He  had  somehow 
prevented  Mr.  Austin's  return,  and  had  only  made  a 
pretense  of  going  for  help.  Yet  she  felt  herself  supe- 
rior to  him.  God  would  not  leave  her  without  defense. 
She  was  not  conscious  of  any  act  of  prayer,  but  super- 
natural aid  was  a  certainty  to  her.  She  thought  of 
the  rifle  hanging  upon  the  wall.  She  had  never  touched 
one  in  her  life ;  but  she  remembered  how  it  was 
cocked  and  aimed  and  discharged.  All  this  with  a 
single  flash  of  thought ;  so  that  between  the  first  touch 
of  that  black  hand  upon  her  shoulder,  and  the  deter- 
mination of  her  course  of  action,  no  time  seemed  to 
intervene.  With  a  swift  bound  she  flung  the  hand 
from  her,  and  before  the  brute  jcould  guess  her  pur- 
pose, had  snatched  the  rifle  from  the  wall,  cocked  it, 
and  stood  with  her  finger  on  the  trigger  and  the  muzzle 
pointing  at  his  breast. 

It  was  his  time  to  tremble,  for  he  was  a  wretched 
coward.  "Oh,  laud  !  oh,  good  land,  Miss  Lucy  !  "  he 
cried,  "  doan  you  shoot !  I  was  n't  goiu'  fer  ter  tech 

ye-" 

"  Begone!  "  said  she,  moving  her  finger  nervously 
upon  the  trigger.  "I  shall  sit  down  before  this  door 
all  night,  and  if  you  come  near  it,  you  are  a  dead  man. 
Begone,  I  say  !  " 


THE  BLA'-K   GIANT.  487 

"Oh,  Ise  gwiue,"  said  he,  turning  to  run.  "Ise 
gwiue  quick !  Doau  you  shoot !  "  And  he  disap- 
peared in  the  darki 

Nancy  had  watched  the  rifle  episode  with  staring 
eyes  and  open  mouth,  half  rising,  in  the  intensity  of 
her  interest.  The  sigh  that  escaped  her  as  she  sank 
back  upon  the  bed  caused  Lucy,  for  the  first  time,  to 
look  at  her.  She  lay  witli  her  hands  clasped  and  her 
eves  rolled  upward. 

''Oh,  my  Ian'!  why  didn't  you  shoot?  Now  you 
done  let  dat  nigger  go !  " 

The  escape,  however,  was  not  yet  accomplished. 
Reaching  the  edge  of  the  thicket  to  which  lie  had  lied, 
expecting  at  each  step  to  hear  the  rille  crack  behind 
him,  he  Hung  himself  down  behind  a  tree.  What 
should  he  do  next?  If  the  young  rifle-woman  escaped 
now,  she  would  set  all  the  dogs  in  the  country  on  him 
the  next  day.  lie  must  either  surprise  and  disarm  her 
before  morning  or  take  to  the  woods.  He  inclined  to 
flight  and  rose  to  his  feet.  The  howl  of  a  wolf  came 
from  th«  depths  of  the  forest,  and  sent  a  shiver 
through  him.  lie  could  not  go  there.  lit-  drew  the 
sheath  knife  from  his  belt,  and  feeling  about  with  his 
hands,  found  a  stout  sapling,  from  which  he  cut  a 
cudgel  of  formidable  weight. 

Another  sound  startled  him  —  the  tread  of  stealthy 
steps,  and  the  rustling  of  the  Lushes.  His  keen 


488  THE  ROCKANOCK  STAGE. 

caught  the  outline  of  a  human  form.  He  raised  his  club, 
but  the  weapon  struck  the  branch  above  his  head,  and 
at  the  sound  the  man  stopped,  just  out  of  reach. 

"Wish  —  sh,  sh,"  he  said,  and  drawing  something 
from  beneath  his  coat,  threw  the  light  of  a  small  bull's- 
eye  lantern  in  the  negro's  face.  Another  bull's-eye, 
farther  off,  appeared,  and  its  rays  faintly  illuminated  a 
file  of  masked  men,  a  dozen  or  more  iu  number,  armed 
with  guns,  pitchforks,  clubs,  and  revolvers,  and  some 
of  them  carrying  coils  of  rope  around  their  waists. 

"Oh,  Lord  'a'  mercy  !  "  cried  Abram,  trembling  from 
head  to  foot,  "  what  yo'  Ku-Klux  want  long  o'  me?  I 
a'n't  done  nuffln,  boss,  an'  Ise  jes  goan  fer  ter  leave 
the  kentry,  fac',  I  is  !  " 

The  men  laughed  behind  their  masks,  but  not  a  word 
was  spoken,  except  by  the  leader,  who,  presenting  a 
cocked  revolver  at  Abram's  head,  told  him  to  shut  his 
howling.  A  man  with  a  coil  of  rope  stepped  forward ; 
Abram's  hands  and  feet  were  bound  ;  a  noose  was  put 
around  his  neck,  and  the  rope  was  thrown  over  a  limb, 
drawn  straight,  and  placed  in  the  hands  of  a  giant  as 
big  as  Abram  himself. 

The  wretched  villain  broke  out  again  in  piteous 
entreaties :  "  Oh,  doan  you  hang  me,  boss  !  I  a'n't  de 
man  wat  you  want,  fac'  I  a'n't.  I  a'n't  teched  no- 
buddy.  Oh,  please,  boss,  lemme  go  !  " 

"  See  here,"  said  the  leader  sternly,  "if  you  speak 


THE  BLACK   GIANT.  489 

ag'in.  except  to  answer  my  questions,  or  if  you  don't 
answer  everything  I  ask  you  right  on  the  square,  up 
you  go."  The  giant  at  the  rope  gave  it  a  smart  jerk, 
by  way  of  emphasis. 

The  questions  came  so  fast  as  to  almost  take 
Abram's  breath  away.  Where  did  he  come  from? 
"What  was  he  here  for?  Who  sent  him?  Who  gave 
him  orders?  Was  he  under  Nat  Jennings?  Was 
MacAllan  one  of  them?  Did  Abram  know  it  was  a 
land-grabbing  game,  and  so  on? 

"  You  hear  him,  boys,"  said  the  leader.  "  Now  come 
on  and  we  '11  fetch  out  the  wench,  and  set  their  caboose 
afire.  You  keep  a  tight  holt  o'  that  rope,  Infant." 

The  sound  of  Abram's  pleadings  had  reached 
Nancy's  ears.  "Oh,  my  Ian'!"  she  cried,  "  de  Ku- 
Klux  is  atter  Abram,  shuah !  I  he'  Mm  squallin'  out 
ter  'em  not  ter  hang  'ira.  I  guess  now  that  ar  dirty 
black  nigger  git  his  dizzerts." 

The  apparition  of  masked  faces  at  the  cabin  door 
overwhelmed  her  with  terror.  "  Oh,  my  Ian' !  liver 
dey  is  now,  atter  me!'*  She  buried  herself  under  the 
bedclothes  and  gave  vent  to  frantic  howls  and 
ejaculations. 

The  hope  of  rescue  that  had  come  to  Lucy  with  the 
Srst  sound  of  voices  gave  place  to  fresh  terror  when 
the  group  of  masks  came  crowding  the  open  door  of 
the  hut. 


490  THE  IIOCKANOCK  STAGE. 

The  men  were  not  less  surprised  than  herself. 
"Great  Moses!"  exclaimed  the  first  one  who  spied 
her.  "  See  here,  cap,  here  's  somethin'  pooty  nice. 
Well,  this  is  a  go  !  " 

"  What?  is  there  a  white  one,  too?"  said  the  leader, 
pushing  forward. 

Lucy  stood  facing  them,  still  holding  the  rifle,  but 
making  no  menace  with  it,  and  feeling  both  less  fear 
and  less  self-command  than  when  before  the  negro. 

"I  don't  know  who  you  are,"  she  said,  "or  what 
your  purpose  may  be.  If  you  are  men,  as  I  trust  you 
are,  you  will  not  molest  a  couple  of  defenseless 
women." 

"Who  are  you?"  demanded  the  captain. 

u  I  am  Miss  Darling  ;  I  live  at  Rockby." 

"Oh,  yes!"  called  out  a  man  in  the  rear,  "we 
know  whose  darling  you  be.  You're  the  girl  that's 
engaged  to  that  MacAllan  scamp.  A  pooty  darling 
you  be,  a'n't  ye?  We're  out  a-huutin'  your  set  to- 
night." 

"  I  belong  to  no  set,  and  have  no  connection  with 
Mr.  Mac  Allan.  I  am  a  friend  of  the  Ottway  people, 
and  am  doing  all  I  can  to  help  them." 

"  Gammon  !  "  cried  the  man  in  derision.  "  I  seen 
ye  ridin'  all  over  with  him.  Don't  tell  me !  Go 
ahead,  cap.  I  know  her,  she 's  tryin'  to  fool  ye. 
Don't  pay  no  attention  to  her ;  but  keep  a  sharp  look- 


BLACK  GIANT.  491 

out  for  Mac  Allan.  He  's  most  gen'ally  round  where 
she  is." 

"Come  on  then,  boys,"  said  the  captain.  "Fetch 
out  these  two  darlings  and  burn  the  shanty.  Hustle  out 
here,"  he  said  to  Lucy,  seizing  her  roughly  by  the  arm 
and  taking  the  rifle  from  her.  '•  Hustle,  I  tell  ye,  or 
we'll  burn  it  over  your  head."  The  touch  brought  no 
such  thrill  of  mental  and  physical  energy  as  that  of 
the  negro  had  done,  and  she  permitted  herself  to  be 
thrust  forth.  "  A  do/en  rullians  are  less  terrible  than 
one,"  sin-  thought. 

Four  men  seized  Nancy's  bed,  and  kicking  off 
boards  enough  to  enlarge  the  door  to  the  requisite 
si/.e.  bore  the  screaming  creature  forth. 

"  Take  'em  to  different  places,"  commanded  the 
leader.  "  It  don't  do  to  bunch  'em  too  much.  Leave 
the  wench  to  the  edge  o'  the  swamp  yonder;  and  here, 
you  little  yeller  tramp!  you  take  this  young  woman 
out  by  that  big  basswood  tree,  and  keep  her  there  till 
J  come  to  you." 

"  All  right,  cap'n,"  said  a  voice  in  the  midst  of  the 
group;  and  a  mask  showed  itself  under  a  tall  man's 
arm.  The  man  who  wore  it,  if  he  were  a  man,  was 
but  a  boy  in  height,  though  his  shoulders  were  broad, 
and  his  arms  reached  to  his  knees.  "Come  along, 
miss."  he  said  to  Lucy.  She  followed  him  instantly, 
and  without  remonstrance  or  hesitation.  He  walked 


492  THE  EOCKANOCK  STAGE. 

before  her  to  the  basswood  designated,  passed  it,  and 
silently  taking  her  hand,  turned  sharply  to  the  left,  led 
her  around  two  sides  of  the  little  clearing,  to  the  foot- 
path, and  thence  to  the  road.  The  passage  was 
rapidly  made,  through  thick  undergrowth,  which  tore 
Lucy's  clothing  and  lacerated  her  hands,  but  she  did 
not  slacken  her  speed. 

"  Can  you  run?"  whispered  her  conductor  as  they 
reached  the  highway.  She  answered  with  a  pace  that 
soon  set  him  panting.  At  length,  when  they  had  put 
a  good  quarter  of  a  mile  between  them  and  the  burn- 
ing cabin,  they  stopped  under  the  shadow  of  a  tree. 
Panting  and  trembling,  she  snatched  the  black  cambric 
mask  from  his  face.  "Oh,  you  dear,  good  Grim!" 
she  cried,  "you  are  an  angel  from  heaven!  What 
miracle  ever  brought  you  here  ?  " 

Very  briefly  he  told  her  how  it  had  come  about. 
Anxious  to  see  the  major  again,  he  was  making  bis 
way  as  best  he  could  toward  Rockby,  and  had  found 
lodging  for  the  night  at  a  farmer's.  A  gang  of 
threshers  were  there,  made  up  of  rough  young  fellows 
ready  for  any  wild  frolic.  The  negro  squatters  had 
been  discussed,  together  with  the  whole  scheme  of  the 
laud  pirates  by  whom  they  were  employed.  Some  one 
proposed  that  they  organize  a  raid,  put  the  squatters 
out-of-doors,  bum  the  hut,  and  frighten  the  negro  into 
a  confession  of  certain  facts  which  they  greatly  wished 


TV//-:   r.LACK   f.'/.LVr.  493 

to  obtain.  Grim  had  been  invited  to  join  them,  which 
he  very  willingly  did,  hoping  to  get  some  new  light 
upon  the  Ottway  business. 

Lucy  did  not  relate  her  own  adventures  in  detail. 
She  merely  stated  that  she  had  gone  to  visit  the  woman 
supposed  to  be  sick,  expecting  the  minister  to  call  for 
her.  that  he  had  failed  to  come,  that  she  had  passed 
hours  of  terrible  anxiety  from  which  the  attack  of  the 
masked  men  had  been  a  welcome  relief. 

But  all  the  horrors  of  the  night  were  now  forgotten 
iu  her  anxiety  concerning  Mr.  Austin.  She  urged 
Grim  to  run  with  her  again.  k>  \Vc  must  find  him," 
she  said.  "  I  know  something  dreadful  has  happened 
to  him." 

The  nearest  settler  was  Mr.  Rice.  To  reach  bis 
house  by  the  road  they  must  traverse  two  sides  of  a 
triangle,  of  which  the  route  through  the  woods  was 
the  hvpothennse.  When  they  had  traversed  one  side 
and  were  about  to  turn  the  angle,  Lucy  suddenly 
checked  her  companion.  "  Hark  !  Hark  !  " 

From  far  down  the  Rockby  road  came  a  sound  that 
thrilled  her  like  the  bugles  of  an  army  coming  to  her 
rescue.  She  knew  it  \\ell.  Kvery  day  she  heard  it 
pass  along  the  Rockby  streets.  Often  at  her  open 
window  she  had  caught  the  smindxif  it  from  the  bluffs 
far  beyond  the  Onono,  —  that  dull  clank  of  iron  upon 
iron,  made  by  the  wheels  of  a  heavy  vehicle.  "The 


494  THE  KOCKANOCK  STAGE. 

stage!"  she  cried.  "0  Grim,  "they  are  coming  to 
find  us  !  This  is  a  miracle  indeed  !  " 

In  reality,  it  was  in  the  most  literal  sense  natural. 
At  dusk  Rosey  had  come  flying  into  the  stable  yard, 
wild  and  foaming,  with  the  fragments  of  her  harness 
barely  clinging  about  her.  It  was  an  occurrence  call- 
ing for  no  explanation,  but  for  prompt  and  energetic 
action.  There  had  been  an  accident.  Where  did  it 
occur?  How  serious  was  it?  What  had  the  occupants 
of  the  missing  phaeton  suffered  from  it? 

The  doctor  was  not  at  home,  and  the  major  was  still 
unable  to  leave  the  house.  The  Roekanock  stage  had 
arrived  a  little  behind  time,  had  disposed  of  its  load, 
and  was  returning  toward  the  stable  when  Rosey  dashed 
by.  Lezer  at  once  turned  and  followed  her,  and  learn- 
ing where  she  had  been  and  who  had  been  with  her, 
promptly  put  the  stage  at  Mrs.  Ashley's  disposal.  It 
was  exactly  what  was  wanted.  Hastily  seizing  a  pil- 
low, some  extra  wraps,  and  a  compact  little  case  which 
the  doctor  called  his  emergency  magazine,  she  entered 
the  coach,  while  Pat,  leaving  poor  Rosey  to  her  fate, 
mounted,  with  a  couple  of  lanterns,  beside  the  driver. 

Away  went  the  stage  on  its  unaccustomed  route,  at 
such  a  pace  as  jaded  horses,  a  heavy  vehicle,  and  a 
hilly  road  would  permit.  Old  Grey  attempted  no  in- 
terruptions, but  with  his  faithful  mate  seemed  to  com- 
prehend the  situation.  Yet,  despite  the  best  endeavors 


THE  BLACK   '.7.1AT.  405 

of  driver  and  team,  it  was  dark  and  the  lanterns  had 
been  lighted  before  the  clank  of  the  old  coach  wheels 
reached  the  ears  of  Grim  and  Lucy. 

Within  the  space  between  the  hurrying  stage  and 
the  two  who  r.iu  panting  through  the  dark  to  meet  it, 
lay  all  that  \\as  tragical  in  the  runaway  accident. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

NIGHT    ON    THE    JERICHO    ROAD. 

HASTENING  on  to  meet  the  coming  stage,  Lucy 
and  her  companion  soon  came  to  the  tree  which 
stood  so  dangerously  near  to  the  highway.  On  its 
trunk,  perhaps  two  feet  from  the  ground,  something 
white  gleamed  in  the  general  darkness.  Lucy  touched 
the  spot  with  her  hand,  and  felt  the  moist,  gelatinous 
surface  where  a  piece  of  bark  had  been  lately  torn 
away.  At  the  same  moment, she  heard  a  snort  within 
a  yard  of  her  face,  and  a  sound  as  of  a  horse  straining 
at  his  halter.  She  started  back  with  an  exclamation 
of  fright. 

"  Who  is  there?  "  said  a  voice  out  of  the  darkness, 
a  few  yards  farther  on. 

She  had  never  expected  to  hear  that  voice  again,  but 
it  brought  her  inexpressible  relief.  "  Mr.  MacAllan  !  " 
she  exclaimed.  "Are  you  looking  for  MS?  What  has 
happened  ?  " 

"  I  am  trying  to  find  out,"  he  replied,  more  surprised 
at  the  sound  of  her  voice  than  she  had  been  at  his. 
"  Don't  you  know?  Are  you  hurt?  If  I  only  had  a 
light  1 " 

496 


NIGHT  ox  Tin:  .//:/,•/.' 7/0  I;OAD.       497 

"Here's  some  matches,"  said  Grim,  going  toward 
the  voice.  He  struck  one,  and  Mr.  MacAllan  lighted 
with  it  the  end  of  a  folded  newspaper,  making  an  ex- 
temporized torch,  whose  light  imperfectly  revealed  the 
scene.  He  was  kneeling  by  the  roadside.  Near  by 
was  the  wreck  of  the  phaeton.  His  own  horse  was 
tied  to  the  fatal  tree.  Before  him  lay  a  motionless 
form  with  its  white  face  turned  upward.  With  a  scream 
of  horror  Lucy  sprang  forward  and  cast  herself  upon 
the  ground  beside  him. 

"  Oh,  it  is  he,  it  is  he  !  And  he  is  killed  !  I  knew 
it.  I  knew  it." 

Mr.  MacAllan  had  left  Rockby  at  dusk,  after  hav- 
ing faithfully  carried  out  the  purpose  expressed  to 
Lucy  in  the  morning.  Deacon  \Vauberton  had  been 
culled  upon  to  put  his  notarial  seal  and  certification 
upon  a  written  statement,  which  he  was  requested  to 
read  and  hand  to  Mr.  Austin  after  sundown. 

As  the  "  good,  sensible  rig, "which  had  been  so  lon-_: 
identified  with  Mr.  MacAllan's  schemes,  was  heat  In  I 
for  Chicago,  its  owner  experienced  a  novel  sensation, 
the  consciousness  of  virtuous  intention.  His  route  lay 
through  the  Ottway  Tract ;  for  lie  must  without  fail 
\brani  .Jackson,  for  a  purpose  critically  connected 
with  the  virtuous  intention.  The  Held  glass  Imd  nut 
been  on  duty  that  d;;y,  and  he  had  no  siispieion  that 
Lucy  and  the  minister  had  driven  this  way  ;  othei 


498  THE  ROCKAXOCK  STAGE. 

he  would  not  have  delayed  until  evening  his  visit  to 
Abram  Jackson. 

Driving  at  a  steady,  all-night  pace,  enjoying  the  novel 
sensation,  and  meditating  on  the  more  novel  and  ex- 
citing one  that  the  Rockby  public  would  enjoy  the 
next  morning,  he  was  suddenly  brought  to  himself  by 
the  jolting  of  his  buggy  and  the  stopping  of  his  horse. 
He  had  driven  over  some  small  obstacle,  and  a  greater 
one  lay  in  his  path.  Alighting,  and  taking  his  horse 
by  the  bridle,  he  advanced  cautiously.  The  white  spot 
attracted  his  attention,  and  led  him  to  the  tree,  where 
he  fastened  his  horse.  A  shadowy  something  in  the 
ro'ad  proved  to  be  an  overturned  carriage,  and  the 
obstacle  over  which  his  wheels  had  passed  a  man's 
arm!  Finding  the  body  warm  but  insensible,  he  was 
about  to  hurry  away  for  assistance,  when  he  heard  the 
sound  of  wheels  in  the  distance  in  one  direction,  and 
footsteps  and  voices  approaching  from  the  other.  When 
he  discovered  that  one  of  the  voices  was  Lucy's,  that 
the  overturned  carriage  was  the  doctor's  phaeton,  and 
that  the  insensible  body  was  that  of  Mr.  Austin,  his 
heart  died  within  him.  "  It  is  too  late  !  "  he  exclaimed. 
"Oh,  why  did  I  not  start  one  hour  sooner?  Now, 
everything  is  in  vain  !  "  Looking  upon  Lucy,  as  she 
sank  beside  Mr.  Austin,  and  lifted  the  earth-begrimed 
head  into  her  lap,  he  almost  expected  to  hear  her  say, 
as  his  own  conscience  did,  "  This  is  your  work,  mur- 


NIGHT  OX   THE  JERICHO  ROAD.          499 

derer !  "  He  caught  the  gleam  of  water  by  the  road- 
side, and  ran  to  fill  his  hat  from  the  little  stream. 

The  clank  of  the  stage  wheels  was  close  at  hand. 
Lezer  had  seen  the  quickly  fading  light  of  the  paper 
torch,  aud  lashed  his  horses  to  a  run.  But  before  he 
could  reach  the  spot  there  came  a  swift  rush  of 
wheels,  and  irou-shod  feet,  and  the  black  mare  flew  by 
him. 

"  Thirty  rods  ahead  of  ye,  Doc.  Take  care  !  "  he 
shouted. 

"  Take  care  !  "  echoed  Grim.  "  Don't  drive  over 
us ; "  and  he  seized  the  black  mare  by  the  bit  as  the 
doctor  drew  rein  and  leaped  to  the  ground,  lantern  in 
hand. 

"  Grim  !     You  here? 

"  And  you,  MacAllan? 

"•'And  Lucy!  Thank  God  you  are  safe,  dear! 
But  what  is  this?"  He  held  his  lantern  down  close  to 
the  white,  upturned  face. 

"  O  Tom,  save  him  !  "  cried  Lucy  with  streaming 
eyes.  "  Don't  let  him  die  !  He  must  not  die !  " 

u  We  will  do  all  we  can,  poor  child  ! "  he  answered 
gently;  "and  you  must  be  brave,  Lu.  More  may 
depend  on  you  than  on  me." 

He  put  his  hand  on  the"  wrist  and  over  the  heart. 
He  pushed  back  the  closed  eyelid  and  looked  within, 
but  gave  no  sign  of  what  he  thought.  A  rout  in  the 


600  THE  HOCKANOCK  STAGE. 

clothing  near  the  hip,  and  an  appearance  of  dampness 
in  the  fabric  attracted  his  attention.  He  put  his 
fingers  to  the  spot  and  held  them  to  the  light.  They 
were  red !  He  gave  a  quick  glance  into  Lucy's  face. 
It  was  as  white  as  the  one  that  she  held  in  her  lap, 
and  she  put  her  hand  to  her  brow  as  if  about  to  reel 
and  fall  backward. 

"Lucy,"  said  the  doctor  sternly,  "don't  do  that! 
If  you  faint  now,  when  his  life  may  depend  on  your 
courage  and  help,  you  are  not  the  woman  I  think  you 
are." 

"I  won't,  Tom,"  she  said  with  returning  color. 
"  Don't  mind  me.  Only  do  something  for  him  I  Do 
something  quick !  " 

Mr.  MacAllan  took  her  handkerchief  from  her  lap, 
wet  it  in  the  water  which  he  had  brought,  and  bathed 
her  temples  with  it.  She  looked  her  thanks  to  him, 
and  taking  the  handkerchief  from  him  bathed  the 
white  face  in  her  lap. 

The  stage  was  already  there  and  emptied  of  its 
load.  Helen,  Lezer,  and  Pat  came  about  the  group 
on  the  ground.  The  doctor  gave  them  no  chance  to 
ask  questions. 

"  Rosey  ran  away,  striking  the  tree  there,  and 
throwing  Mr.  Austin  out.  Lucy  is  all  right.  Now 
don't  waste  any  time.  Take  the  seats  out  of  the 
stage,  and  fill  it  half  full  of  hay.  There  are  stacks  in 


NIGHT  OJV   THE  JERICHO  ROAD.          501 

this  Geld  on  the  right,  I  think.  Run,  some  of  you, 
with  your  lanterns  and  fetch  armfuls  of  it.  Helen,  I 
want  you  here." 

Drawing  forth  his  instruments,  he  quickly  cut  away 
the  clothing  and  exposed  an  ugly,  ragged  wound,  :it 
sight  of  which  Helen  shuddered. 

"•  Nothing  but  a  flesh  wound,"  said  the  doctor,  pro- 
ceeding to  dress  it.  "He  must  have  struck  some 
sharp,  rough  object  as  he  fell." 

The  stage  was  soon  converted  into  an  unbalance. 
Lucy  was  first  helped  in  and  seated  herself  upon  the 
hay  with  the  pillow  in  her  lap.  Mr.  Austin,  still 
unconscious,  was  then  carefully  lifted  and  laid  upon 
the  soft  couch,  with  his  head  upon  the  pillow.  Lezer 
mounted  his  box.  Grim  and  Pat  took  their  places 
beside  him.  The  doctor  and  Helen  followed  with  the 
black  mare. 

"  S'pose  I  sh'll  hefter  drive  pooty  careful?"  Lezer 
said  to  the  doctor. 

"  Yes,  carefully,  but  not  slowly.  Go  just  as  fast 
as  you  can  possibly  go  with  safety." 

Mr.  MacAllan  silently  watched  tin-  departure  of  the 
sad  procession.  Lucy  had  spoken  a  hasty  word  of 
acknowledgment  as  she  passed  him.  The  others 
ignored  his  presence.  When  the  retreating  lanterns 
had  left  him  again  in  darkness,  he  untied  his  horse 
and  resumed  his  journey.  The  sense  of  virtuous 


502  THE  EOCKANOCK  STAGE. 

intention  afforded  him  little  satisfaction,  but  the 
memory  of  that  last  word  of  kindness. from  Lucy  was 
sweet  to  him. 

Arrived  at  the  site  of  the  negro's  cabin,  he  found  in 
its  place  only  smouldering  embers.  But  from  a  tree 
near  by  hung  what  a  sudden  gleam  from  the  embers 
showed  to  be  a  human  form,  its  toes  resting  on  the 
ground,  and  a  rope  stretching  from  its  neck  to  the 
limbs  above. 

"Poor  Jackson!"  said  MacAllan,  cautiously  draw- 
ing nearer,  "  have  you  come  to  this?  So  I  was  too 
late  to  save  you,  tooJ  " 

"  Is  dat  you,  boss?  "  said  a  wheezy  voice.  "  I  wuz 
playin'  possum,  kuz  I  'lowed  yo'  wuz  one  o'  dem  ar 
Ku-Klux  what  strung  me  up.  Oh,  please,  boss,  cut 
me  down  !  Dey  done  stole  my  knife." 

Mr.  MacAllan  quickly  released  him  from  his  painful 
position  and  unbound  his  hands  and  feet.  The  burly 
fellow  rubbed  his  neck,  drew  a  few  vigorous  breaths, 
and  stooping  down  picked  his  cudgel  from  the  ground 
where  the  vigilantes  had  made  him  drop  it.  "  Now, 
yo'  low-down  white  trash,"  said  he,  turning  fiercely 
upon  MacAllan,  "I  gotter  have  a  setterment  long'r 
you  !  Ise  hild  yer  shanty  fer  yer,  'n'  Ise  kep'  de  gran- 
gers offen  your  lau',  'n'  Ise  fixed  de  elder  whatcher 
tole  me  ye  had  n't  no  use  fer,  'n'  Ise  skeert  dat  ar  gal 
mose  to  death,  what  went  back  on  ye,  'n'  de  Ku-Klux 


NIGHT  O.V  THE  JERICHO  ROAD.          603 

(ley  bu'n  mer  shanty,  V  strung  me  up  on  a  tree,  V 
Nance,  she  uppen  lef'.me.  Now,  w'at  I  gwineter  git 
for  all  dat,  eh  ?  " 

•'  Nothing,"  replied  MacAllan  coolly,  drawing  a 
revolver.  But  before  he  could  cock  it,  it  was  wrenched 
from  his  hand,  and  a  blow  of  Abram's  cudgel  felled 
him  to  the  earth. 

His  hut  partially  broke  the  force  of  the  blow,  and 
consciousness  soon  returned  to  him.  lie  dared  not 
show  signs  of  life,  however,  but  lay  limp  and  passive, 
with  closed  eyes,  while  the  negro  took  his  watch  and 
money,  and  stripped  him  of  his  clothing.  Then  fol- 
lowed a  short  pause.  "•  Speck  I  oughter  shave  de 
cawpse,"  said  Abram.  "  Dem  ar  whiskers  '11  fetch 
five  dollars,  shuah."  He  took  the  penknife  which  he 
h:id  just  stolen  from  his  victim's  pocket,  and  with 
much  pulling  and  sawing  on  his  part,  and  much  mental 
and  physical  agony  on  the  part  of  MacAllan,  cut  the 
whiskers  away  and  stuffed  them  into  his  pocket.  Con- 
summate robber  !  He  left  no  marketable  article  behind 
him.  • 

N.-xt  he  drew  what  he  called  the  "  cawpse  "  under 
the  same  tree  from  which  he  had  jiist  been  cut  down, 
put  the  same  noose  around  its  neck,  and  before  Mac- 
Allan  could  decide  whether  it  was  safer  to  yield  or 
resist,  had  thrown  the  rope  over  the  limb  above  and 
given  it  a  painfully  vigorous  pull.  But  the  i 


504  THE  ROCKAXOCK  STAGE. 

already  chafed  and  weakened,  proved  unequal  to  the 
strain,  and  broke,  letting  MacAllan  drop  back  upon 
the  ground.  Some  sound  in  the  forest  alarmed  the 
would-be  hangman,  and  hastily  depositing  his  booty  in 
the  buggy,  he  mounted  it  himself  and  drove  away. 

Farewell,  "good,  sensible  rig"!  It  will  be  many  a 
day  before  your  old  master  drives  you  again,  for  busi- 
ness or  for  pleasure. 

Taking  a  brand  from  the  fire,  Mr.  MacAllan  searched 
about  for  some  chance  garment  with  which  to  cover 
himself.  In  the  edge  of  the  thicket  through  which 
Grim  and  Lucy  had  fled,  he  found  a  paper  package  of 
peculiar  appearance.  "  It  may  help  to  rekindle  the 
fire,"  he  said,  and  retained  it  in  his  hand.  On  the 
other  side  of  the  ruins  he  discovered  Nancy's  deserted 
bed  with  a  single  tattered  coverlet  upon  it,  dirty  and 
ill-smelling.  Wrapping  himself  in  this,  he  returned  to 
the  fire,  heaped  the  unconsuraed  fragments  of  the 
shanty  upon  the  coals,  and  sat  down  shivering  before 
them  upon  the  ground. 

As  the  flames  grew  brighter  he  tore  open  the  paper 
package  and  absently  glanced  at  its  contents.  AVhat 
was  his  amazement  to  see  his  own  handwriting,  and 
to  read  a  letter  which  he  had  sent  to  Pack  a  few  weeks 
before,  relating  to  his  most  confidential  affairs,  finan- 
cial and  matrimonial !  Further  investigation  revealed 
other  similar  productions,  including  the  reunited  frag- 


\imiT  ov  yv//-:  .//;/,'/' no  j;o.\f>.        5(1.", 

inents  of  til-.'  letter  which  he  had  torn  in  pieces  in  the 
street  five  months  before.  There  were  also  reports  of 
conversations  between  Pack  and  Krauntz  concerning 
Mac-Allan's  affairs,  letters  from  Major  Gibson  to 
Grim,  copies  of  letters  from  Grim  to  Major  Gibson, 
and  copious  memoranda  of  various  facts,  all  relating 
either  to  the  Ottwav  business,  or  to  MacAllan's  designs 

*  D 

upon  Lucy  Darling.  The  package  furnished  the  as- 
tonished reader  data  for  an  extended  review  of  his 
plans  and  doings  for  the  previous  five  months.  In 
his  present  circumstances  and  state  of  mind  a  more 
exquisite  torture  could  not  have  been  contrived  for 
him. 

14  So  it  seems  I  have  been  on  exhibition  all  the 
while,  telling  my  secrets  to  the  very  people  I  thought 
to  deceive,  and  working  out  the  whole  plot  right  before 
their  eyes !  And  this  is  where  Miss  Darling  got  the 
facts  which  she  hurled  in  my  face  this  morning.  Her 
guardian  must  have  had  detectives  on  my  track  all 
summer.  No  wonder  she  was  so  sarcastic.  Yet  how 
the  noble  girl  seemed  to  relent  a.nd  pity  me  at  the  last, 
much  us  she  despised  me!  " 

Concerning  Grim's  part  in  the  business,  or  the 
manner  in  which  this  extraordinary  package  found  its 
way  to  the  thicket  where  MarAMan  had  di^-ovend  it, 
he  did  not  now  pause  to  consider.  lie  had  neither 
time  nor  inclination  for  conjectures.  The  fire  was  lo\v. 


506  THE  ROCKANOCK  STAGE. 

Me  was  cold,  naked,  penniless,  friendless.  Abramwas 
no  longer  to  be  feared,  but  the  incendiaries  and  lynch- 
ers  might  be  lurking  about.  Drawing  the  old  coverlet 
around  him,  the  barefoot  vagabond  crept  back  to  the 
highway  and  wandered  aimlessly  on,  resolved  to  end 
his  wretchedness  in  the  first  pond  he  came  to. 

Long  after  midnight  the  Rices  were  awakened  by 
the  loud  and  persistent  barking  of  their  dogs  about  a 
pile  of  newly  threshed  straw  near  the  cattle  sheds.  A 
lantern  and  a  pitchfork  brought  to  view  a  haggard, 
unclothed  man,  wrapped  in  a  tattered  coverlet,  and  half 
dead  with  cold  and  fright,  who  proved  upon  closer  in- 
spection to  be  what  remained  of  Mr.  Allan  MacAllan. 
He  recited  briefly  the  story  of  the  robbery  and  begged 
permission  to  spend  the  night  in  the  straw.  But  Mr. 
Rice  insisted  upon  taking  him  to  the  house,  and  find- 
ing him  reluctant,  actually  dragged  him  in  by  force. 
Mrs.  Rice  arose  from  her  bed,  put  clean  linen  upon  it, 
and  left  it  to  his  use,  while  she  and  her  husband  re- 
treated with  the  baby  to  the  attic.  In  the  morning 
they  dressed  him  in  a%  farmer's  blue  cotton  frock  and 
overalls,  shaved  him,  and  gave  him  a  bountiful 
breakfast.  Thus  once  more  was  he  dependent  upon 
the  charity  of  those  whom  he  had  sought  to  wrong. 
They  served  him  cheerfully  and  urged  him  to  remain 
with  them  during  the  Sabbath,  but  shame  and  fear 
forbade. 


Ninirr  OH  THK  JJ-:I;K-U(>  I;<>.\D.        607 

On  parting  be  gave  them  the  paper  package,  re- 
questing them  to  deliver  it  to  some  of  tlie  Ashleys, 
ami  to  say  from  him  that  he  had  taken  the  liberty  to 
read  its  contents ;  but  that,  "though  it  related  chielly  to 
his  affairs,  and  though  he  might  even  claim  the  owner- 
ship of  parts  of  it,  he  was  now  acting  under  a  resolu- 
tion with  which  it  would  not  be  consistent  either  to 
destroy  or  to  retain  it. 

His  journey  still  led  through  the  Valley  of  Humilia- 
tion. In  a  lonely  wood  he  was  startled  at  hearing  a 
voice  not  far  from  the  road,  crooning  in  a  quavering 
minor  strain  :  — 

u  Oh,  nobody  knows  de  trouble  Ise  seen !  " 

He  stopped  and  peered  cautiously  through  the 
branches  to  get  a  glimpse  of  the  invisible  singer.  At 
the  snapping  of  a  twig  the  song  suddenly  cea>ed  and 
a  woman  leaped  to  her  feet. 

"  Why,  Nancy !  is  that  you?"  he  exclaimed,  going 
toward  her. 

"  Mebbe  't  is  V  mebbe  't  ain't,"  she  replied,  retreat- 
ing as  fast  as  he  advanced.  "  What  vo'  want  long  er 
me?" 

"  Don't  you  know  me,  Nancy?" 

"Speck  vo"re  one  o'  dem  ar  Ku-Klux  w'at  bu'n  de 
shanty  'u'  strung  up  Abrum." 

"  No;   I  am  Mr.  MacAllau." 


508  THE  ItOCKANOCK  STAGE. 

Nancy  burst  into  derisive  laughter. 

"  Wat  kinder  fool  yer  take  me  fer,  eh?  S'pose  I 
doan  know  dat  ar  two-legged  pa'r  o'  whiskers  w'at  hired 
me  tcr  make  b'l'eve  sick  ?  Yo'  go  'long !  Yo'  doan 
look  no  mo'  lak  him  dan  a  mule  look  lak  de  new  moon  ;" 
and  again  she  broke  into  laughter,  but  kept  a  safe  dis- 
tance between  herself  and  the  object  of  her  suspicion. 

"  It  is  no  wonder  that  you  don't  know  me,  Nancy," 
he  said.  "I  hardly  know  myself.  But  I  want  you 
to  listen  to  me.  I  have  done  much  wrong,  and  have 
brought  you  into  trouble  by  it.  I  am  very  sorry  for 
it,  and  if  I  can  ever  make  you  amends  I  will  certainly 
do  so.  Now,  as  you  see,  I  am  as  poor  as  you  are,  and 
far  more  miserable."  He  related  the  previous  night's 
adventures,  including  the  encounter  with  Abram. 

No  sooner  was  Nancy  satisfied  of  his  identity  than 
she  broke  out  in  a  torrent  of  execration,  as  shocking 
in  its  language  as  it  was  terrific  in  its  violence.  Trans- 
lated and  expurgated,  it  denounced  him  as  a  cheat,  a 
liar,  and  a  villain,  the  instigator  of  murder  and  the  au- 
thor of  all  her  present  wretchedness.  She  reviled  him 
bitterly  for  letting  Abram  escape,  and  Abram  more  bit- 
terly still  for  not  killing  him,  and  invoked  upon  them 
both  such  curses  as  made  his  blood  run  cold. 

"  Now,  yo'  g'  long  boutcher  business  if  yo'  got  any  !  " 
she  cried  ;  "  an'  doan  yo'  never  speak  ter  no  'spectable 
nigger  ag'in." 


NIGHT  O.V    THE  JEHICEO  ROAD. 

He  made  one  more  effort  to  conciliate  the  infuriated 
creature,  but  she  drowned  his  voice  with  an  unearthly 
scream,  and  rushed  upon  him  in  a  frenzy  of  rage  from 
which  he  was  glad  enough  to  escape  by  flight.  Glanc- 
ing backward  over  his  shoulder  as  he  fled,  he  saw  her 
stop,  panting,  in  the  road,  and  stand,  flinging  her  arms 
in  the  air,  and  swaying  her  fat  body  to  and  fro, 
exclaiming  :  — 

'•  Oli,  my  lau' !  Oh,  my  good  Ian' !  I  feel  hxk  Ise 
gwinter  have  de  powers  !  "  There  was  nothing  ludi- 
crous in  the  situation,  either  to  him  or  to  her,  as  he 
plodded  on  through  his  Valley  of  Humiliation,  and  she 
turned  back  toward  Rock  by. 

Meantime,  scenes  very  different  from  this,  though 
not  less  sensational,  were  occurring  in  Rock  by  itself. 
Mr.  Austin  lay  upon  the  bed  to  which  he  had  been 
borne  from  the  stage,  on  the  previous  night,  painfully 
conscious  now  of  the  wounds  and  bruises  to  which  In- 
had  been  so  alarmingly  indifferent  a  few  hours  before. 
Lucy,  too,  was  utterly  prostrated.  The  splendid 
strength,  which  had  carried  her  through  the  ordeal  just 
passed,  had  succumbed  at  last,  and  she  lay  in  a  w« 
feverish  languor,  more  intolerable  than  pain. 

Neither  of  them  had  been  questioned  concerning  tin- 
events  of  the  previous  night,  or  even  been  permitted 
to  speak  of  them,  though  many  tilings  nee.le.l  expla- 
nation. Grim  had  told  a  strange  story,  of  limlin-  Mi-s 


510  THE  EOCKANOCK  STAGE. 

Darling  at  the  negro  shanty ;  but  of  the  scene  which 
preceded  his  arrival,  or  of  the  circumstances  which 
led  to  the  runaway  accident,  neither  he  nor  the  family 
had  any  knowledge. 

Mr.  Austin's  own  recollection  of  the  affair  was  but 
just  beginning  to  have  some  distinctness.  He  remem- 
bered a  noise  in  the  thicket  at  the  roadside  causing 
Rosey  to  make  a  sudden  start ;  then  the  report  of  a 
gun,  and  at  the  same  instant  a  blow  near  the  hip;  a 
sensation  of  numbness  ;  the  falling  of-  the  reins  from 
his  hands  ;  the  rush  of  the  frightened  horse  around  the 
corner  and  down  the  Rockby  road  ;  the  collision  with 
the  tree ;  and  then  nothing  more,  till  he  awoke  to 
consciousness  in  the  Rockanock  stage. 

That  awakening  was  the  part  most  vividly  recalled, 
though  it  seemed  to  him  now  less  like  an  awakening 
than  like  a  delightful  dream.  His  first  sense  of  re- 
turning life  was  that  of  a  throbbing  pain  in  his  temples. 
The  next  was  the  touch  of  a  soft  hand  on  his  forehead. 
Then  he  heard  a  murmuring  sound,  at  first  indistinct 
and  apparently  miles  away,  then  seeming  to  come 
nearer  and  nearer,  till  it  grew  into  words.  "Dear 
Lord,"  it  said,  "dost  not  thou  care  for  thy  child? 
Wilt  thou  let  this  noble  life  perish  by  the  wayside, 
all  its  splendid  powers  crushed  at  a  blow?  No,  no, 
thou  wilt  not !  Life  and  death  are  in  thy  power.  All 
things  are  possible  to  thee.  O  thou  who  didst  give 


NIGHT  ON  THE  JERICHO  ROAD.          511 

back  to  Mary  and  Martha,  even  out  of  the  grave,  the 
brother  whom  thou  lovest,  give  me  back  my  brother 
also,  or,  if  thou  wilt  not,  let  me  die  with  him  !  " 

There  was  no  voice  to  say  to  her,  "  He  is  not  dead, 
but  sleepeth."  The  awakening  sufferer,  greatly  as  he 
longed  to  tell  her  that  her  prayer  was  heard,  could 
neither  speak  nor  move,  nor  so  much  as  open  his 
eyes. 

But  the  life  whose  new  pulses  were  stirring  within 
him  made  its  own  sign  to  her.  A  sudden  thrill  Hushed 
through  the  hand  that  lay  upon  his  forehead,  aud 
through  every  nerve  and  faculty  of  her  beiu^. 

For  a  moment  she  held  her  breath  iu  eager  suspense. 
She  did  not  dare  to  let  herself  believe  the  blessed 
truth.  Then  she  felt  herself  swept  away  in  such  a 
transport  of  gladness  as  had  never  before  possessed 
her,  and  would  not  now  have  been  possible  to  her  ex- 
cept for  the  mental  and  physical  condition  to  which 
this  awful  night's  experiences  had  brought  her.  It 
was  not  rapture.  It  was  delirium. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

A    NEW    GOSPEL. 

E  Rockby  church  had  never  before  contained 
•*-  so  many  people,  or  people  more  solemnly  atten- 
tive. The  pews,  the  aisles,  the  choir  gallery,  the 
porch,  the  outer  steps,  the  space  about  the  open  win- 
dows, the  sidewalk,  —  all  were  crowded  long  before 
the  bell  ceased  tolling ;  and  still  the  assembly  grew, 
blocking  the  very  street  in  front  of  the  entrance. 

No  service  was  expected.  The  news  of  the  acci- 
dent to  the  pastor  had  spread  through  the  village  like 
wildfire,  and  a  dozen  or  more  different  versions  were 
current,  the  most  common  one  being  that  Mr.  Austin 
was  killed,  and  Miss  Darling  fatally  injured.  It  was, 
at  the  same  time,  credibly  reported  that  startling  dis- 
closures had  been  made  concerning  the  scandal,  and 
that  a  public  statement,  which  would  vindicate  Mr. 
Austin's  character  and  electrify  the  community,  would 
be  made  from  the  pulpit  to-day.  Hence  the  vast 
concourse  which  filled  and  surrounded  the  church,  and 
hence  the  hush  and  suspense  which  ensued  when  Dr. 
Ashley  made  his  way  to  the  pulpit  with  a  mysterious 
document  in  his  hand. 

512 


A     VATII'  GOSPEL.  513 

"  If  good  news  be  gospel,"  said  he,  "  then  I  have  a 
genuine  gospel  to  preach  to-day  ;  for  I  bring  you  that 
which  will,  I  know,  be  good  tidings  of  great  joy  to 
every  one  of  you." 

A  rustle  and  murriiur  of  gratification  ran  through 
the  audience. 

"  First  of  all,"  he  continued,  "  let  me  set  your 
minds  at  rest  concerning  last  evening's  accident,  about 
which  so  erroneous  reports  are  in  circulation.  Mr. 
Austin  is  neither  killed  nor  likely  to  die.  He  has  sus- 
tained painful  injuries,  which  will  lay  him  aside  for  a 
time,  possibly  for  a  month  or  two;  that  is  all." 

The  signs  of  gratification  were  more  demonstrative 
than  before,  so  that  the  doctor  was  compelled  to  wait 
a  moment  for  the  restoration  of  quiet.  A  man  in  the 
vestibule  repeated  to  those  without  the  statement 
which  had  been  made.  Some  one  in  the  choir  gallery 
asked  Dr.  Ashley  a  question,  not  distinctly  heard  by 
the  audience.  He  turned  and  replied  to  the  speaker 
in  a  conversational  tone  :  — 

"  She  is  suffering  the  reaction  following  intense 
excitement  and  fear,  but  is  in  no  danger." 

"And  now,  friends,"  said  he,  holding  up  the  docu- 
ment in  his  hand,  —  a  half  sheet  of  1« Mial  <-M|>  with  a 
large  green  seal  in  the  lower  left-hand  corner,  —  "  here 
is  the  gospel  of  which  I  am  the  fortunate  m 
and  which  is  to  make  this  Sabbath  day  tin-  most  n.»ta- 


614  THE  EOCKANOCK  STAGE. 

ble  day  in  the  history  of  this  church.  Ever  since  the 
infamous  scandal  with  which  you  are  familiar  reached 
the  ears  of  the  official  boards  of  the  church  and  soci- 
ety, they  have  been  making  strenuous  efforts  to  dis- 
cover its  authors  and  the  means  of  its  refutation.  All 
that  the  best  legal  and  detective  talent  could  do  has 
been  done ;  and  we  were  already  in  possession  of  the 
facts  in  the  case,  and  a  part  of  the  proofs  necessary  to 
enable  us  to  establish  them  in  court,  when  we  unex- 
pectedly received  what  is  better  than  the  clearest  legal 
demonstration  could  be  —  the  confession  of  the  whole 
plot  by  the  chief  conspirator !  " 

As  Dr.  Ashley  concluded  this  sentence,  again  hold- 
ing up  the  document  with  the  green  seal  attached, 
the  audience  broke  out  in  acclamations  of  joy  that 
drowned  his  voice.  The  man  in  the  vestibule  again 
repeated  the  substance  of  the  statement  to  those 
without. 

"Let  me  read  this  document  to  you,"  said  the 
doctor,  as  soon  as  he  could  make  himself  heard  :  — 

ROCKBT,  October  21,  1871. 
To  whom  it  may  concern. 

I,  Allan  MacAllan,  hereby  confess  and  declare  that  the 
reports  recently  in  circulation  in  this  community,  deroga- 
tory to  the  moral  character  of  Rev.  Dudley  Austin,  are 
wholly  and  maliciously  false;  that  they  were  fabricated  at 
uiy  suggestion,  by  unscrupulous  persons,  acting  in  my  sup- 


A   NEW  (1OSPEL.  515 

posed  interest;  that  both  their  authors  and  myself  knew 
then)  to  be  without  foundation  in  fact,  and  used  them  with 
the  deliberate  intention  of  destroying  Mr.  Austin's  character 
and  influence,  for  a  purpose  as  selfish  as  the  means  em- 
ployed were  despicable.  I  furthermore  declare  that  I  am 
moved  to  this  confession  by  no  fear  of  detection,  and  in  no 
hope  of  immunity;  that  it  has  been  voluntarily  prepared, 
without  the  suggestion  or  knowledge  of  any  other  person, 
ami  solely  because  I  have  been  led  to  see  and  loathe  the 
ba^enos,  of  my  conduct.  I  therefore  earnestly  entreat  all 
persons  who  have  been  influenced  by  the  malicious  slander 
for  which  [  am  responsible,  to  banish  it  at  once  and  forever 
from  their  minds,  and  to  accord  again  to  Mr.  Austin  the 
same  estimation  for  blameless  morality  in  which  he  was 
<l'--Tvedly  held  before  the  promulgation  of  this  falsehood. 
For  myself,  I  ask  and  expect  nothing  but  the  detestation 
of  all  decent  men. 

(Signed)  ALLAN  MACALLAN. 

Then  followed  the  notary's  attestation  in  usual 
form  ;  and  then  a  scene  which  set  every  rule  of  church 
and  Sablmth  decorum  at  defiance.  The  whole  con- 
gregation rose  to  its  feet,  as  if  by  common  impulse, 
cheering,  clapping,  laughing  and  crying,  waving  bats 
:u.d  handkerchiefs,  shaking  hands  and  exchanging 
congratulations.  In  the  midst  of  the  excitement,  the 
organ  sounded  the  notes  of  Old  Hundred,  and  all  the 
glad  enthusiasm  of  the  assembly  poured  itself  out  in 
a  tumultuous  doxology.  Tin-  throng  without  caught 
the  strain,  and  "  Praise  God,  from  whom  all  Mes 


516  THE  EOCKANOCK  STAGE. 

flow,"  thundered  forth  with  a  voice  that  filled  all 
Rockby,  and  reached  the  ears  of  the  wounded  hero 
whose  triumph  it  celebrated. 

As  the  assembly  dispersed,  members  of  the  official 
boards  and  man}7  others  gathered  about  Dr.  Ashley  in 
a  sort  of  adjourned  jubilee,  of  which,  however,  he 
declined  to  be  the  center. 

"  Here,  friends,"  said  he,  dragging  little  Grim  into 
the  midst  of  them,  "is  the  real  evangelist.  Here  is 
the  man  who  has  unraveled  this  scheme  of  iniquity 
and  given  us  the  means  of  exposing  it.  In  fact  we 
are  indirectly  indebted  to  him  for  the  document  which 
I  have  just  read.  I  cannot  with  propriety  explain 
more  particularly ;  but  there  is  no  reason  to  believe 
that  the  confession  would  ever  have  been  made,  if  he 
had  not  furnished  the  means  of  provoking  it." 

"  "Whudder  yer  think  about  fire  'n'  smoke  now?" 
asked  Lezer  of  Captain  Yorrick,  the  whilom  proverb- 
monger,  as  the}'  walked  away  together. 

"  You  was  right,  Lezer,"  the  man  admitted.  "  The 
fire  was  incendiary;  but  it's  put  out  now,  isn't  it? 
and  the  incendiary  is  found.  All's  well  that  ends 
well." 

"Put  out!  Yaas,"  retorted  Lezer,  pointing  to  the 
blackened  boards  on  his  barn.  "That  fire  wuz  put 
out,  too,  more  'n  nine  months  ago ;  but  the  marks  on 
it  is  left,  an'  allus  will  be.  An'  no  confession,  and  no 


A    \KH'  nits  PEL.  .",17 

signin*  and  sealm'  and  no  liurrahin'  an'  singin'  the 
doxology  ain't  a-goin'  to  take  them  air  marks  out." 

"  That 's  true,"  said  the  proverb-monger,  "true  as 
gospel.  Truth  is  stranger  than  fiction." 

"But  the  fiction  '11  stick  the  longest,  I  tell  ye! 
They  wuz  folks  in  that  crowd  to-day  that  believe  the 
scaiidle  yit.  I  heard  'em  say  so.  They  wanter  be- 
lieve it  an'  they  will.  '  How  do  we  know,'  sez  they, 
'  that  the  confession's  true?  Most  likely  he  was  scairt 
into  it,  or  bribed  into  it.'  And  thry 's  hundreds  of 
folks  that's  heerd  the  scandle  that  never  heerd  the 
confession  at  all,  an'  never  will.  Don't  tell  UK  !  You 
ken  put  the  fire  out,  but  they 's  marks  that's  burnt  in 
fer  all  time.  Whatcher  goin'  ter  do  with  them?" 

The  question  might  have  been  pertinently  addiv^ed 
to  .Mr.  Solomon  Drabsider,  than  whom  no  one  had 
taken  a  more  lively  interest  in  the  scandal.  In  addi- 
tion to  his  functions  as  editor  of  Tii.-  Roekby  Inter- 
view, he  was  the  local  correspondent  of  the  Chicago 
Mud-Thrower,  a  journal  which  made  social  immoral- 
ities a  specialty.  Having  learned  from  its  Kockby 
correspondent  that  a  nice  little  scandal  was  current 
there,  involving  the  character  of  a  popular  young 
clergyman,  the  .Mud-Thrower  had  despatched  a  re- 
porter, disguised  as  a  theological  book  agent,  to  work 
up  the  story  for  the  paper.  He  was  introduced  to 
Mr.  Mat-Allan  by  Mr.  l)ial»ider,  and  was  at 


518  THE  ROCKANOCK  STAGE. 

taken  into  the  former's  confidence,  and  instructed  in 
all  the  details  of  the  scandal.  Moreover,  being  largely 
endowed  with  that  supernatural  acuteness  for  which 
his  craft  is  noted,  he  amused  himself  by  extracting 
from  Mr.  MacAllau's  most  private  keeping  secrets 
which  that  gentleman  was  not  aware  of  imparting. 

The  report  was  duly  written  in  the  highest  style  of 
reportorial  art,  with  headlines  startlingly  alliterative, 
and  capitalized  catchwords  thrown  in  here  and  there 
between  the  paragraphs,  and  was  actually  in  type,  when 
its  suspension  was  suddenly  ordered  by  the  editor. 
Another  reporter  it  seemed,  whose  duty  it  was  to  steal 
interesting  secrets  from  the  city  lawyers  and  detec- 
tives, had  made  a  counter  discovery,  namely,  that  the 
authors  of  the  scandal  had  been  detected ;  that  a 
complete  refutation  was  impending ;  that  the  inten- 
tions of  the  Mud-Thrower  were  known ;  and  that  a 
libel  suit,  backed  by  the  ablest  talent  and  plenty  of 
money,  awaited  the  publication  of  the  story. 

The  duty  of  a  discreet  and  impartial  mud-thrower, 
in  such  circumstances,  was  plain.  The  lawyers  were 
interviewed,  and  the  secrets  which  the  theological 
book  agent  had  stolen  from  Mr.  MacAllan  were 
swapped  for  an  equivalent  amount  of  new  information 
in  the  lawyer's  possession.  Then  a  brief  contradic- 
tion was  appended  to  the  three-column  statement  pre- 
viously prepared,  and  Mr.  MacAllan's  confession, 


A   XE\\'  (i  OS  PEL.  519 

arriving  just  in  the  nick  of  time,  was  appended  to 
that.  Some  new  headlines,  also  startliugly  alliterative, 
were  interlined  between  those  already  set  up,  and  the 
whole  was  published. 

Thus  the  paper  avoided  both  risk  and  loss.  No 
effort  of  the  reporters  or  of  the  compositors'  was 
wasted.  The  public  was  treated  to  three  sensations 
instead  of  one,  and  the  function  of  a  great  mud- 
throwing  journal  was  fulfilled.  What  reasonable 
victim  could  complain,  when,  along  with  the  mud 
needlessly  cast  upon  him,  he  was  gratuitously  furnished 
with  a  chip  with  which  to  scrape  it  off?  If  any  stains 
proved  indelible,  it  was  the  fault  of  the  mud  and  not 
of  the  engine  which  ejected  it ! 

Of  course  The  Rock  by  Interview  rcpublUhed  in  full 
the  statements  of  its  Chicago  contemporary,  with  :i 
sketch  of  Mr.  Mac-Allan's  career  in  Kockby,  and  some 
severely  moral  reflections  upon  the  sin  of  slander.  It 
also  gave  graphic  accounts  of  the  burning  of  tin- 
negro  cabin,  Miss  Darling's  adventures  and  rescue,  tin- 
runaway  incident,  and  the  scene  at  the  chuivh. 
With  most  of  the  facts  involved  the  reader  is 
already  snlliciently  acquainted.  One  or  two  it 
however,  not  yt-t  familiar  to  us,  may  be  quoted 
from  the  columns  of  the  Interview:  — 

An  examination  of  the  phaeton  shows  thai  tin-  hall  passed 
through  the  felloe  of  the  wheel,  ami  tin-  thick  side  of  the 


520  THE  EOCKANOCK  STAGE. 

seat-box,  before  striking  its  victim.    This  accounts  for  the 
raggedness  of  the  wound  which  it  made. 

Putting  together  Mr.  Austin's  recollections  of  the  shoot- 
ing, with  Miss  Darling's  account  of  the  conduct  and  move- 
ments of  the  negro  Jackson,  it  seems  probable  that  lie  was 
the  assailant,  and  that  his  intention  was  murder.  Tele- 
grams describing  him  and  calling  for  his  arrest  have  been 
sent  in  every  direction;  and  Mr.  Wacks,  better  known  as 
Grim  the  dwarf,  Major  Gibson's  private  detective,  who  has 
rendered  such  valuable  service  in  the  scandal  investigation, 
has  gone  to  Chicago  to  aid  in  the  identification  of  the 
criminal. 

Later. — The  negro  has  been  arrested  in  Chicago  while 
attempting  to  dispose  of  his  booty,  but  denies  all  knowl- 
edge of  the  crime. 

Latest.  —  Jackson  admits  the  shooting,  and  implicates 
MacAllan  as  the  instigator  of  the  crime.  This  is  precisely 
what  we  have  suspected  from  the  first.  It  seems,  then, 
that  we  have  been  harboring  in  our  midst  not  only  a  cun- 
ning and  unscrupulous  swindler,  but  a  revengeful  and 
bloodthirsty  villain.  Ottway  people  are  wondering  how 
the  great  land  stealing  scheme  will  be  affected  by  this 
escapade  of  the  head  conspirator,  and  what  the  next  move 
of  the  pirates  will  be.  If  they  take  our  advice  —  the 
pirates,  we  mean  —  they  will  call  a  special  meeting  of  the 
gang,  suspend  the  rules,  and  cut  one  another's  throats. 

It  may  be  stated  in  this  connection,  for  the  satis- 
faction of  any  reader  who  shares  the  curiosity  of  the 
Ottway  people,  that  though  Mr.  Drabsider's  sugges- 


A  NEW  GOSPEL.  521 

tion  was  not  literally  adopted,  its  spirit  was  carried 
out  with  considerable  fidelity.  Mr.  Mac-Allan's  first 
care  on  reaching  Chicago  was  to  find  Mr.  Krauntz, 
and  solicit  a  loan,  that  he  might  provide  himself 
with  food,  shelter,  and  respectable  clothing,  while  he 
sought  some  honest  employment.  He  had  no  difficulty 
in  finding  the  small  pawn  shop  on  West  Madison  Street, 
where  Mr.  Krauntz  had  established  himself  since  the 
fire,  and  very  little  trouble  in  proving  his  identity  to 
the  satisfaction  of  the  cunning  broker.  But  to  the 
proposition  for  a  loan  Mr.  Krauntz  replied  that  it  was 
impossible  without  security.  Mr.  McAllan  offered  a, 
second  mortgage  on  his  Maryland  estate.  Mr.  Krauntz 
shook  his  head. 

"  One  mortgage,  das  is  miff,"  he  said. 

"But  you  know  the  estate  is  worth  double  the 
amount  you  have  loaned  me  upon  it,"  protested  Mac- 
Allan. 

"  D:is  make  not  some  difference,"  replied  the  broker. 

MaeAllan  pleaded  his  desperate  need.  "  You  can't 
refuse  a  man  a  trilling  accommodation  in  such  circum- 
stances," he  said. 

"  Eef  I  moost,  I  cannot  help,"  said  the  imperturb- 
able. Shylock.  "Yen  you  prinii  me  siccooi  it  y  d.-n  you 
get  some  moany  ;  not  »•!>»•." 

MaeAllan  referred  to  tlieir  former  relations,  and  to 
the  services  which  he  had  ivndnvd  Kraunt/  and  1'aek. 
But  Pack's  name  only  called  forth  an  angry  retort. 


522  THE  BOCJKA-\OrK 


"Das  is  not  use  you  talk  to  me  pout  such  rascal 
feller  like  Pack.  I  not  have  sometings  to  do  niit  him 
any  more." 

"  You  are  all  rascals  together  !  "  exclaimed  Mac  Allan 
angrily.  "You  and  Pack  and  the  elder  —  merciless 
thieves  and  robbers,  every  one  of  you  !  " 

Krauntz  did  not  resent  this  language  in  the  least  ; 
but  a  strange,  malicious  smile  came  over  his  face. 

"  You  never  see  dem  elder,  a'n't  it?" 

"  No  ;  and  I  don't  want  to  !  " 

"  I  never  see  'im  too.  Pack,  he  never  see  'iin.  No- 
body never  see  'im.  He  never  see  'iinself.  He  don't 
vas  uoware." 

"What  do  you  mean?  I've  paid  him  over  two 
thousand  dollars,  the  grasping  villain  !  " 

"  'Ow  you  pay  'im,  eh?  " 

"  Through  Pack." 

Krauntz  laughed.  "  Das  whassa  matter.  Das 
mouny  a'n't  git  troo  Pack.  He  keep  it  all,  selbf.  / 
know." 

Mr.  MacAllan  sank  into  a  chair  and  stared  at  his 
tormentor.  He  remembered  how  this  invisible  ally  had 
been'  managed  ;  with  what  mystery  he  had  been  sur- 
rounded ;  how  adroitly  money  had  been  extorted  in  his 
name  ;  what  incredible  things  he  was  alleged  to  have 
accomplished.  He  recalled  Lucy's  allusion  to  him  as 
"  the  fictitious  elder." 


A  :v/;ir  9OSFSL,  523 

"  Fool  and  knave,  and  the  dupe  of  knaves  !  "  he  ex- 
claimed. "  This  is  retribution  indeed  !  " 

"  Yah,  yah,"  said  Krauntz  coolly.  '-  Das  all  right. 
You  cheat'u  sometimes  ;  sometimes  you  git  cheat'n. 
Das  all  right.  I  do  'iin  so,  too,  in  my  beezniss." 

Mr.  MacAllan  left  the  pawnbroker's  shop  in  a 
of  mind  that  boded  trouble  for  both  himself  and  Pack. 
His  reformation  had  not  yet  advanced  so  far  as  to  ex- 
tinguish or  control  that  spark  of  tropical  heat  of  which 
we  have  had  one  or  two  glimpses.  Hotter  and  hotter 
grew  the  flame  within  him,  as  he  made  his  way  on  foot 
along  the  desolate  streets  of  the  north  side,  in  the 
direction  of  Mr.  Tack's  present  residence.  It  was  a 
long  and  weary  way  for  a  nmn  who  had  had  neither 
breakfast  nor  dinner. 

Reaching  Lincoln  Park,  he  stopped  to  rest  for  a 
moment,  leaning  against  the  palings  near  the  entrance. 
Within  the  enclosure  a  workman  had  stopped  his  cart, 
hung  his  black-snake  whip  on  the  horse's  hames,  and 
gone  away  in  the  ditvclion  of  a  distant  group  of  fel- 
low laborers.  Mr.  MacAllan  watched  him  enviously. 
"  If  I  had  his  chance  to  earn  a  livelihood,  I  woi/d 
count  myself  happy,"  he  thought. 

As  his  eye  followed  the  retreating  figure,  another 
attracted  his  attention  —  a  sallow,  keen-eye  i  man, 
walking  meditatively  down  the  footpath,  apparently 
revolving  in  his  mind  some  weighty  quest  ion  of  state 


524  THE  EOCKAXOCK  STA<iK. 

or  of  philanthropy.  At  sight  of  him,  MacAllan  felt 
himself  grow  strong  as  a  lion,  and  as  fierce.  He  sprang 
through  the  entrance,  snatched  the  whip  from  the 
carter's  horse,  and  ran  with  it  toward  the  meditative 
pedestrian.  The  Maryland  blood  was  ablaze  in  his 
veins  ;  and  the  weapon  in  his  hand  suited  his  mood 
precisely.  He  was  born  a  slaveholder's  son,  and  felt 
the  lash  to  be  a  most  timely  ally  and  avenger  against 
this  despicable  villain. 

A  description  of  the  scene  which  followed  would  not 
be  pleasant  reading  for  sensitive  people.  But  the 
spectacle  was  greatly  enjoyed  by  the  workmen,  who 
came  running  to  the  spot  at  the  first  sound  of  the  fray. 
Seeing  a  man  dressed  in  working  clothes  horsewhip- 
ping a  gentleman,  they  approved  the  procedure,  on 
general  principles,  and,  catching  such  words  as 
"knave,"  "beggary,"  "  starvation,"  amid  the  storm 
of  denunciation  which  accompanied  the  flogging,  they 
cheered  on  the  assailant,  and  kept  back  the  citizens 
who  were  disposed  to  interfere.  "Lave  him  be!" 
cried  the  driver  of  the  cart.  "He's  only  actin'  in 
self-definse." 

The  affair  was  quickly  over ;  and  before  the  police 
arrived  upon  the  ground,  the  limp  and  demoralized 
lawyer  had  been  helped  into  a  northward  bound  car, 
while  the  almost  fainting  victor  was  hurried  away  by 
the  admiring  workmen. 


A  ,v/:ir  <;OSFEL.  526 

When  Major  Gibson  read  his  Chicago  paper  tin- 
next  day,  he  found  in  it  au  item  headed,  u  Pack's 
Punishment,"  which  drew  from  him  shouts  of  laughter 
and  approbation,  and  sent  him,  paper  in  hand,  to  the 
room  of  the  bedridden  minister. 

"  See  here,  Austin,"  he  cried,  reading  the  para- 
graph to  him.  "  Here  is  what  you  may  call  self- 
acting  justice.  The  vigilantes  mob  Abram  ;  Abram 
robs  Mat-Allan  ;  Mac-Allan  horsewhips  Pack.  Now  if 
Pack  will  shoot  Krauntz,  and  the  shrriff  will  hang  them 
all,  the  self-acting  machine  will  be  worth  patenting." 

"  If  justice  were  self-acting,  major,"  said  the  min- 
ister gravely,  "  you  and  I  would  find  little  reason  to 
exult  at  it." 

"  Come,  come,"  said  the  major,  "  none  of  that. 
Remember  that  theology  and  moral  reflections  and 
I'xhortations  to  the  wicked  are  forbidden  luxuries 
now." 

"What  do  you  recommend  in  their  place?  "  asked 
Lucy,  who  had  come  to  the  door  in  season  to  hear  the 
major's  remark,  and  entered  a^  he  withdrew. 

"  The  conversation  of  a  giddy  and  frivolous  young 
person,"  he  replied,  pinching  her  cheek  as  he  passed 
bar. 

Lucy's  prostration  had  lasted  but  a  day  or  two,  and 
slu-  was  alivadv  quite  herself  a^ain.  She  had  emne  in 
now  for  u  definite  purpose  —  to  offer  Mr.  Austin  her 


526  THE  ROCKANOCE  STAGE. 

services  as  amanuensis  in  any  correspondence  which 
he  could  intrust  to  her. 

He  gratefully  declined  the  offer.  There  was  no 
correspondence,  he  said,  which  required  attention. 

She  looked  surprised  and  grieved.  "  Surely,"  said 
she,  "  there  is  at  least  one  person  who  ought  to  re- 
ceive news  from  you  at  such  a  time  as  this." 

"  Not  one,"  he  replied. 

"  Oh,  do  not  do  so  !  "  she  pleaded.  "  You  think  it 
kinder  to  be  silent  than  to  pain  her  with  the  truth. 
.But  you  don't  know  a  woman's  heart  as  I  do.  At 
such  a  time  silence  is  cruel.  Let  me  write  to  her.  I 
will  take  care  that  she  is  not  needlessly  alarmed  ;  for 
I  love  her,  too,  you  do  not  know  how  dearly,  and  I 
cannot  bear  to  think  of  her  being  kept  in  suspense. 
The  account  of  your  accident  will  be  in  all  the  papers. 
What  if  she  sees  it  without  explanation?  It  would  kill 
her.  Do  let  me  write  to  her,  or  telegraph,  or  both." 

lie  looked  at  her  in  amazement,  for  what  she 
thought  an  insufferable  length  of  time,  till  she  said, 
coloring,  "  You  think  it  impertinent  in  me  to  speak  of 
her.  You  as  good  as  told  me  so  before ;  and  I  prom- 
ised myself  never  to  refer  to  her  again.  But  in  an 
emergency  like  this  I  would  rather  risk  offending  you 
than  leave  her  to  suffer.  Besides,  I  thought  we  were 
well  enough  acquainted  now,  so  that  you  would  not 
take  offense  at  it." 


A  .v/:u'  i ; os PEL.  527 

"  Lncy,"  said  Mr.  Austin  gently,  "  I  am  not 
offended.  I  cannot  imagine  you  offending  me.  But 
neither  can  I  imagine  what  can  be  the  meaning  of 
your  words.  Write  to  whom?  Telegraph  to  whom? 
Don't  talk  in  riddles  any  more,  but  tell  me  plainly 
what  you  mean." 

••  I  mean,"  answered  Lucy  with  increasing  color, 
lk  the  one  to  whom  you  are  engaged;  the  lady  whom 
you  arc  to  marry." 

A  shadow  of  pain  passed  over  his  face.  "  There  is 
no  Mich  person,"  lie  said  slowly.  "  I  am  not  engaged. 
I  shall  never  marry." 

She  sank  back  in  her  chair  with  a  look  of  disap- 
pointment and  grief.  "  It  is  broken  off,  then?  Oh, 
I  am  very,  very  sorry." 

He  smiled.  "There  was  never  anything  to  break 
off,"  he  said. 

"What?  Were  you  not  really  engaged  to  her? 
Mrs.  TransiiiLTton  told  me  you  were." 

"  Engaged  to  whom?  " 

"•  Why,  I  never  heard  her  name.  Mrs.  Transing- 
ton  merely  referred  to  her  as  the  Eastern  girl  to  whom 
you  were  engaged." 

"  There  is  no  such  girl  in  existence,  and  never  has 
been." 

"  No  —  such  —  girl?  I  low  can  that  !•»',  when  I 
have  carried  her  picture  in  my  heart  for  mouths, 


528  THE  ROCKAXOCK  STAGE. 

thought  of  her,  dreamed  about  her,  and  loved  her  as  a 
sister?  And  now  I  shall  never  see  her,  and  all  ray 
lovely  dreams  must  vanish  into  nothing !  Why,  this  is 
worse  than  losing  a  friend  by  death  ;  it  is  losing  one 
by  annihilation  !  " 

Tears  of  bereavement  were  actually  in  her  ey<}s. 
He  felt  the  mist  rising  before  his  own  also,  and  closed 
them,  for  shame  of  the  weakness.  When  he  opened 
them  again  she  was  gone. 


CHAPTER    XXXIX. 

OUTSIDE     AND     INSIDK. 

E  Rockanock  stage  rumbled  l»riskly  along  over 
J-      the  frozen  road.     The  driver's  fingers  grew  stiff 
rind  blue  in  the  keen  November  wind,  but  his  tongue 
unusually  voluble  with  questions  and  gossip,  truth 
and  fable.     The  gentleman   beside   him   felt   tin-   inad- 
equacy of  his  fall  overcoat,  but  could  not  forego  the 
pleasure  of  an  outside  seat.     A  three  week-.'  absence 
from    Rock  by  made    Lezer's   company   peculiarly   ac- 
ceptable. 

They  were  discussing  the  incidents  of  an  arrest 
which  Lexer  had  made  in  his  capacity  as  constable. 
'•  He  wu/  the  changidest  feller  't  ever  ye  see.  elder. 
Tell  ye  what,  when  ye  take  off  the  store  close  off  «>' 
some  folks,  V  put  on  blue  overalls  'n'  other  things 
accordin',  'n'  cut  off  such  a  reg'_rerlcr  hosstail  of  a 
baird,  why  it 's  like  the  Kthiopium  chnngin'  !. 
es  the  Seriptur'  se/..  Hut  that  wa'  n't  all.  lie  M  hired 
out  to  a  teamster  in  the  burnt  deestriek  on  the  north 
side,  'u'  wuz  shiivvlin  mortar  'n'  ashes  like  a  good 
feller,  all  covered  with  dust,  ye  know." 

'•How  diil  you  happen  to  reeogni/e  him?" 
M 


530  THE  BOCKANOCK  STAGE. 

"  Happen  !  Ther'  wa'  n't  no  happenin*  about  it.  I 
knowed  him  by  his  ears,  es  soon  's  ever  I  sot  eyes  on 
him.  '  I  'm  glad  to  see  you  makin*  yerself  useful, 
kunnle,'  sez  I.  He  looked  up  sorter  sprized,  and  see 
who  it  wuz  and  the  city  pleecernun  standin'  by  me, 
and  he  throw'd  down  his  shuvel  'n'  sezee,  '  Do  you 
want  me,  Lezer?'  An'  sez  I,  '  Yes.'  An'  he  turned 
round  to  his  boss,  an'  sezee,  '  I  've  got  to  go  with  these 
men.'  An'  his  boss  ast  us  a  few  questions,  and  sezee, 
4 1  'm  sorry  to  loose  ye,  Mack,'  an'  hauled  out  his  wages 
an'  gin  him,  an'  he  come  right  along  with  us  es  peace- 
able es  a  lamb." 

"  But  he  is  n't  in  jail  now?" 

"Bless  ye,  no  !  They  wuz  a  lawyer  name  o'  Willis 
went  bail  fer  him.  Cur'us,  wa' n't  it?" 

"Where  is  the  other  man?  He  is  not  at  large, 
is  he?" 

"  What,  the  nigger  't  shot  you  ?  Not  much  !  We  've 
got  him  on  ice  till  you  git  back.  Oh,  he  '11  keep,  Jack- 
son will." 

"  Is  Nancy  still  at  Dr.  Ashley's?" 

"She?  No;  she's  ter  work  ter  the  hotel.  Got 
well  pooty  fast,  did  n't  she  ?  She  don't  make  no  bones 
o'  tellen  how  Mac  Allan  hired  her  ter  make  b'l'eve  sick, 
so  't  they  could  n't  turn  her  out  o'  the  shanty.  But 
what  she's  maddest  at  him  fer  is  his  cuttin'  Abrurn 
down ;  sez  she  could  forgive  him  everything  but  that. 


OUTSIDE  AND  IXSIDE.  531 

You  oughter  hear  the  critter  talk  about  Miss  Darlin' 
though.  Land  !  she  jest  wusshups  her." 

"  You  say  Miss  Darling  is  well?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  she  's  tiptop,  an'  so  's  all  tlie  rest  on  'em  ; 
the  major  'n'  the  dot-tor  'n'  Miss  Ashley  'n'  tlie  chil- 
dren 'n'  Deacon  Wobberton's  folks,  'n'  so  forth  '11'  so 
on.  Yis,  they 're  all  tiptop.  But  look  a  here,  elder, 
what  be  I  a  ihinkiu*  on?  Why,  you  're  most  froze  ter 
death,  fer  a  fack.  (lit  ri'_rht  inside,  an'  wrap  them  air 
lap  robes  round  ye.  Whoa,  boys!  There,  git  right 
down,  elder." 

His  passenger  protested.  He  was  not  suffering. 
lie  would  ride  to  Mayo  anyway;  they  were  almost 
there  already. 

But  Lexer  was  imperative.  t%  No,  sir!  I  a'n't  goin' 
ter  carry  your  frozen  remains  into  Kockby,  elder,  not 
to-night;  no,  sir.  I  don't  drive  no  ice  curt.  I  a'n't 
goiuter  hev  'em  say  the  elder  went  off  ter  Milwaukee 
V  got  cured,  and  then  froze  ter  death  in  the  K<>ekan»ek 
stage." 

So  the  pasM-nuvr  was  fain  to  yield.  I.e/.er  had 
acted  rather  strangely  to-day.  He  had  refused  some 
through  passengers,  commercial  travelers,  on  the  pre- 
text that  their  baggage  was  too  h.-avy,  ami  had  com- 
pelled them  to  charter  a  private  No 
inside  p:,  \veiv  taken  who  \\  :  beyond 
Mayo;  and  at  that  place  he  loaded  the  outside  seat 


532  THE  EOCKANOGK  STAGE. 

with  boxes  and  baggage,  so  as  to  leave  only  room  for 
himself.  At  the  postofflce  he  found  a  passenger's 
order  on  his  slate  ;  but  it  seemed  to  escape  his  memory. 
He  had  never  been  so  forgetful  before,  or  so  indiffer- 
ent concerning  fares.  On  leaving  Mayo,  instead  of 
the  stage  load  he  might  have  had,  he  was  alone  on  his 
box,  and  Mr.  Austin  alone  inside. 

From  a  house  on  the  outskirts  of  the  village  there 
issued  a  young  lady,  fair  of  face  and  trim  of  figure, 
dressed  in  faultless  taste,  and  carrying  a  russet  music 
case  in  her  hand.  As  the  stage  stopped,  she  looked 
smilingly  at  the  contents  of  the  outside  seat,  including 
the  driver,  evidently  expecting  room  to  be  made  for 
her  there. 

"  I  s'posed  ye  dr.uth.er  ride  inside  to-day,"  said 
Lezer  awkwardly,  "  so  I  piled  this  here  seat  full  o' 
truck.  It 's  pretty  cold  ridin'  agin  this  wind." 

"  Cold !  "  she  said,  laughing,  and  holding  out  her 
two  arms  as  if  to  challenge  an  inspection  of  her  warm 
woolen  suit.  "  I  dressed  on  purpose  for  it."  At  the 
same  instant  she  read  in  Lezer's  face  that  for  some 
reason  he  did  not  wish  her  to  ride  with  him.  A  little 
piqued  and  hurt,  she  entered  the  stage,  and  catching 
a  glimpse  under  her  downcast  eyelashes  of  a  pair  of 
masculine  legs,  she  was  about  to  sit  down  with  her 
back  to  their  owner,  when  a  familiar  voice  cried,  "  Lucy 
Darling !  "  and  her  two  hands  were  clasped  in  those  of 
Dudley  Austin. 


OUTSIDE  AND  IX HIDE.  533 

"How  delightful  this  is!"  she  said,  taking  tin- 
offered  seat  by  his  side,  while  he  tucked  the  larger  half 
of  his  lap  robe  arouml  her.  ""We  did  not  know  you 
were  coining  today  :  at  least  I  did  not.  Dr.  Eichberne 
wrote  Tom  that  the  treatment  was  working  to  a  charm, 
and  that  he  would  keep  yon  a  fortnight  longer." 

"  I  am  only  released  for  a  week  or  two  on  parole, 
promising  to  return  if  Dr.  Ashley  thinks  it  best." 

"  And  you  are  vi-ry  much  belt 

"  I  call  my  self  well.  And  you  —  I  should  call  you 
so,  too,"  he  added,  regarding  her  with  evident  satis- 
faction. 

"Perfectly  well  and  happy.  Do  you  see  this?" 
holding  up  the  music  case.  "  I  have  attained  great 
dignity  since  you  went  away." 

"  You  are  not  teaching  im: 

"I  have  fifteen  pupils,  ten  of  them  in  Mayo,  and 
come  down  on  the  stage  twice  a  week  when  the  major 
does  not  drive  me  down." 

"  Does  he  approve  your  plan?" 

••  Not  a  bit;  he  thinks  it  needless  and  foolish.    But 
when  he  saw  my  heart  was  really  set  upon  it,   he 
a  -ort  of  consent.      Do  not  you  think  it  a  good  thing 
to  do?"     She  looked  eagerly  into  his  face,  as  if  his 
opinion   was  a   matter  of  great  moment  to  her. 

••  Uv  all  means,"  he  replied  without  hesitation. 

"There!     I  told  the  major  you  would  B8J     ••     How 


534  THE  EOCKANOCK  STAGE. 

can  a  girl  sit  down  to  a  useless  life?  I  can't.  I 
meant  to  do  this  if  I  had  not  lost  my  property  at  all. 
And  now  I  just  must ;  and  I  am  glad  of  it.  I  have 
no  very  grand  notions  about  a  vocation,  and  no  talents 
for  one  if  I  aspired  to  it.  But  I  can  earn  my  board 
and  clothes,  and  that  is  better  than  being  a  drone ; 
isn't  it?" 

"  Infinitely  better,"  said  he.  "Yet  it  would  be  a 
mistake  to  suppose  that  you  could  avoid  being  a  drone 
only  by  earning  your  own  income.  The  proper  ex- 
penditure of  one  otherwise  provided  for  you  might 
afford  you  a  far  higher  vocation." 

"  But  is  n't  it  nobler  to  earn  than  to  spend?  " 

"  Certainly  not.  Earning  is  not  an  end  or  even  a 
virtue.  It  may  incidentally  benefit  the  earner  where 
the  alternative  is  idleness.  But  when  one  has  such  an 
income  that  the  right  expenditure  of  it  furnishes  ample 
employment  for  all  of  one's  time  and  faculties,  that  is 
vastly  grander  than  any  mere  industry." 

"  I  never  thought  of  it  in  exactly  that  light,"  said 
Lucy. 

"  I  hope  you  will  do  so  then,"  he  responded  ear- 
nestly. "  I  have  thought  much  of  it  in  connection 
with  your  future.  You  are  to  wield  an  immense 
power,  and  I  think  God  is  preparing  you  to  make  it  a 
means  of  immense  good." 

She  looked  at  him  in  a  puzzled  way,  but  evidently 


OUTSIDE  AND  I  WIDE.  535 

did  not  suspect  his  meaning.  "You  always  exagger- 
ate my  importance,"  she  said.  "  There  is  not  likely 
to  be  any  immense  power  committed  to  me,  and  I 
should  not  know  what  to  do  with  it  if  I  had  it.  My 
little  fortune  is  now  chiefly  in  ashes." 

"  Major  Gibson's  is  still  ample." 

"Oh!  I  understand  you.  But  you  are  mistaken. 
I  am  not  the  disposer  of  that.  The  ward  of  a  million- 
aire is  not  the.  custodian  of  his  purse." 

-  P.ut  tin;  wife  of  a  millionaire  will  be  in  this  case, 
I  urn  confident." 

The  puzzled  look  changed  to  one  of  amazement  and 
distress.  What  nonsense  he  was  talking  !  lie  never 
used  to  do  so.  Was  he  losing  his  mind,  or  had  he 
"been  studying  the  art  of  idiotic  banter  while  he  was 
away  ? 

Mr.  Austin  was  not  watching  her  face,  and  went 
smoothly  on  to  make  still  mmv  astounding  remarks, 
quite  unconscious  of  the  sensation  he  was  creating. 

"  As  the  wife  of  Major  Gibson,  you  will  have  " — 

"Mr.   Austin!"  she  exclaimed  with  a  if  a 

sword  had  pierced  her.     "  An- you  in-ane?  or  are  yon 
:ig  me?  or  what  is  the  meaning  of  such  revolting 
language?" 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  said.  "  I  had  no  thought 
of  offending  you  in  speaking  of  such  a  matter  of 
course." 


536  THE  EOCKANOCK  STAGE. 

"  What  matter  of  course?" 

"  Your  marriage  to  the  major.  I  did  not  suppose 
there  was  any  impropriety  in  referring  to  it." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  you  ever  dreamed  of 
such  a  thing  as  my  marrying  my  guardian?" 

"  Why,  of  course  !  I  was  so  informed  before  ever 
I  saw  you,  and  have  never  thought  of  you  in  any  other 
light  than  as  the  betrothed  wife  of  Major  Gibson.  Is 
it  not  true  ?  " 

"  True ?  —  marry  the  major?  —  it  is  as  monstrously 
impossible  and  inconceivable  to  both  of  us  as  the  mar- 
riage of  a  daughter  to  her  own  father  !  "  She  covered 
her  face  for  shame  at  the  thought  of  it.  Suddenly  she 
dropped  her  hands  and  looked  at  him  with  a  merry 
twinkle  in  her  eyes.  "  Who  told  you  this  shocking  fib 
about  me?"  she  asked. 

"  Mrs.  Trausington." 

"Mrs.  Transington ! "  she  repeated  significantly. 
"  The  same  who  created  that  Eastern  girl  for  my  bene- 
fit, I  believe  ! " 

For  a  moment  their  eyes  met.  "Lucy, "he  said, 
"  the  last  fiction  that  has  held  us  apart  is  gone.  Now 
I  have  a  truth  to  tell  you  that  has  long  been  a  secret 
fire  hidden  in  ray  heart."  He  told  it,  being  suffered 
without  resistance  to  choose  his  own  way  of  telling, 
and  to  resort  to  such  means  of  expression  as  his 
feelings  prompted. 


OUTSIDE  AM>   I  \SIDE.  .",  J? 

Then,  indeed,  was  the  old  stage  glorified.  Had  it 
been  a  royal  chariot  of  purple  and  gold  it  could  not 
have  seemed  more  beautiful  to  them  at  this  moment. 
Lezer  had  once  accused  the  stage  of  leaking  sounds. 
Perhaps  he  detected  that  weakness  now.  At  any  rate 
there  was  a  look  upon  his  face  as  if  he  had  heard 
things  of  which  he  did  not  feel  at  liberty  to  speak. 

At  the  foot  of  the  lull  where  old  Grey  was  wont  to 
fall  into  motionless  meditation,  the  stage  stopped,  and 
Lezer  was  heard  expostulating  with  the  great  thinker, 
of  course  in  vain. 

"  Let  us  get  out,"  .said  Lucy,  "  and  walk  up  the  hill 
together." 

Mr.  Austin  deelaivd  that  for  his  part  he  was  entirely 
contented  where  he  was,  and  that  he  would  cheerfully 
grant  old  Grey  two  hours  for  meditation  if  he  wished 
it.  Nevertheless  he  assented  to  Lucy's  proposition, 
and  helped  her  down,  making  rather  more  effort  to  sus- 
tain her  weight  than  seemed  absolutely  necessary. 

'  You  have  forgotten  your  cane,"  she  said  ;  and 
being  nearer  to  the  door  than  he,  she  reached  her  hand 
for  it. 

"  You  may  have  it,  if  you  want  it, "he  said  ;  '•  I  1 
no  further   use   for  it;"  and  giving  her  his  arm.   he 
caught  her  step  and  walked  away  l>y  her  side  with  a 
pace  as  even  as  her  own. 

k'  What!  "  she  exclaimed,  stopping  him,  and  stand- 


538  THE  ROCKANOCK  STAGE. 

ing  a  pace  or  two  away  to  get  a  good  view  of  him, 
"  where  is  your  limp?  " 

"  I  left  it  in  Milwaukee,"  he  answered,  laughing. 

"  Send  for  it,"  said  she,  pouting  a  little  in  her  com- 
ical way.  "I  want  it.  I  don't  like  you  nearly  so  well 
without  it !  " 

As  they  walked  on  again  together,  he  told  her  how 
the  counter-irritation  of  the  wound,  together  with  the 
electrical  treatment  more  recently  resorted  to,  had  re- 
stored the  paralyzed  nerve  and  so  cured  his  lameness. 

"  I  suppose  I  ought  to  be  very  grateful,"  said  Lucy. 
"Of  course  it  will  be  better  for  you;  and  I  used  to 
pray  so  earnestly  that  it  might  be  cured.  But,  some- 
how, you  don't_seein  just  like  yourself  without  it." 

At  the  top  of  the  hill  they  paused,  where  Lucy  had 
once  espied  Mr.  MacAllan,  and  shrunk  from  him  with 
such  loathing.  u  My  first  impression  was  nearest  the 
truth,  after  all,"  she  said.  "  If  I  had  acted  upon  it,  I 
should  have  spared  myself  much  suffering  —  and  yon 
more.  I  think  I  shall  be  a  convert  to  the  intuitional 
theory  in  spite  of  myself.  Man  may  be  a  '  rational 
animal,'  as  the  books  say,  but  a  woman's  only  safety 
is  in  her  intuitions." 

"  I  cannot  admit  that,"  said  Mr.  Austin,  "for  I 
know  very  well  that  you  disliked  me  at  first." 

"  I  did  not!"  she  said  earnestly,  laying  her  hands 
upon  his  breast  and  looking  up  in  his  face  with  glow- 


OUTSIDE  AXD  INSIDE.  530 

ing  pride.  "I  disliked  a  mean  caricature  of  you  that 
I  had  set  up  in  my  silly  head  ;  but  the  first  glimpse  I 
had  of  >/(»(  — of  your  ival  self —  I  knew  you  for  what 
you  wen.  If  I  had  known  myself  better,  I  should 
have  been  frightened  at  the  kind  and  strength  of  my 
rd  for  you." 

I.'  x«r  stood  watching  tlu-m  from  the  bottom  of  the 
hill,  as  Lucy  made  this  speech,  whose  words,  of  coiir>e, 
he  could  not  hear. 

"  A'n't  that  nice,  though?"  said  he.  "Why,  old 
.  you  're  a  reggerlcr  dispensation  o'  provverdnuce, 
you  be !  " 

.Moved  by  this  acknowledgment,  the  great  thinker 
cut  short  his  reverie,  gave  his  mate  the  wink,  and 
scrambled  vigorously  up  the  hill. 

Lr/.er  regarded  the  waiting  passengers  quixxically. 
'•The  wind's  gone  down  some,"  he  remarked  dryly. 
••  Kf  ary  one  on  ye  'd  like  a  outside  seat  the  rest  o'  the 
wav,  I  s'pose  1  kin  make  room  here  (Vr  ye  p'r'aps." 

"No,  thank  you."  they  answered  promptly.  "  It 
is  perfectly  comfortable  inside." 

"  Wall,  jest  /Jiu  say;  'tis  a  kinder  nice  place,  that 
are  .stage  is.  when  they  a'n't  too  many  in  it." 

Arrived  at  liockby,  Mr.  Austin  tendered  Lexer  >i\ 
times  the  amount  of  his  fare. 

44  Wall,  I  in'  .id  the  driver,  refusing  to  touch 

it.  "Can't  ye  tell  how  many  :.  •:'  ye,  cl<!> 


540  THE  ROCKANOCK  STAGE. 

"  I  know  you  forfeited  at  least  five  fares  for  my 
benefit,  and  I  want  you  to  know  I  appreciate  your 
thoughtfulness." 

"Stop!"  cried  Lucy,  all  blushes  and  pulling  back 
the  hand  that  held  the  money.  "  I  will  not  have  a 
price  put  upon  this  ride.  Lezer  is  a  naught}7,  deceit- 
ful plotter  and  matchmaker,  and  he  shall  not  be 
rewarded  for  his  artifices." 

"  Good  for  you,  Miss  Darlin' !  "  laughed  the  driver, 
following  them  toward  the  house  witb  Mr.  Austin's 
satchel.  "Don't  you  give  yerselves  no  oneasiness 
about  me.  I  c'lected  my  dooz  more  'n  six  times  over  's 
I  come  along." 

The  family  were  aware  of  Mr.  Austin's  intended 
return  and  of  his  unexpected  recovery  from  lameness, 
and  had  kept  both  secrets  as  a  pleasant  surprise  for 
Lucy.  But  something  more  than  pleasant  surprise 
was  manifest  in  both  her  face  and  his,  as  they  pre- 
sented themselves. 

"  Why,  Lu,  what  has  happened  to  you  ?  "  said  Helen, 
as  soon  as  the  first  salutations  were  over.  "  You  went 
away  in  such  a  fit  of  the  blues  this  morning !  What 
has  become  6f  them  ?  " 

"I  got  a  nice  antidote  for  them,  straight  from 
Milwaukee,"  said  Lucy  archly,  drawing  closer  to  Mr. 
Austin,  and  putting  her  hand  upon  his  arm.  Her 
face  was  in  a  flame  as  she  did  it.  She  expected  to 


OUTSIDE  AXl>    IXSIDi:.  .">  \  \ 

see  the  entire  family  start  in  astonishment.  But  they 
only  exchanged  significant  glances. 

14  You  blessed  innocents!"  said  Helen.  "Do  you 
think  you  are  telling  us  any  news?  Do  von  Mippcse 
there  is  one  of  us  who  has  n't  seen  and  foreseen  all 
this  from  the  first  moment  that  you  met  each  other? 
Why,  the  very  baby  knew  it  mouths  ago!" 

Lucy  looked  from  one  to  another  for  a  moment, 
and,  stooping,  kissed  the  child  in  Helen's  arms. 

"Then  the  angels  do  whisper  to  babies  after  all," 
she  said,  and  turned  and  ran  from  the  room. 

At  tea  time,  Margie  was  sent  to  bring  the  fugitive 
down.  "  You  's  dot  a  nuvver  seat,  Aunt  Yucy,"  said 
the  confidential  messenger.  "  You  's  doiu  to  sit  sider 
Mr.  Ostin." 

"I  shall  like  that,  Margie,"  she  said,  "and  the 
nearer  the  better." 

The  blushes  with  which  she  took  the  place  thus 
ned  her  were  not  diminished  when  the  remark 
was  repeated  by  Margie  to  the  assembled  family. 

Later  in  the  evening,  Lucy  found  Mr.  Austin  and 
the  major  alone  in  the  drawing  room,  engaged  in 
earnest  conversation.  She  came  to  Mr.  Austin's  side 
and  laid  her  hand  upon  his  shoulder.  "Major,"  she 
said,  "  Dudley  was  afraid  yon  would  not  like  this." 

"Like  it!"  echoed  the  major.  "As  if  it  wasn't 
my  own  plan,  from  beginning  to  end.  Hut  it  did  \«  \ 


542  THE   BOCKAXOCA'  STAGE. 

my  soul  to  see  how  stupid  you  both  were  about  it; 
and  I  could  n't  have  stood  it  much  longer.  I  'd  have 
taken  the  matter  in  my  own  hands,  and  had  you 
betrothed  by  court-martial  in  spite  of  yourselves." 

It  was  a  singular  coincidence  that  Abrarn  Jackson 
should  break  out  of  jail  on  the  night  of  Mr.  Austin's 
return.  Many  thought  it  singular,  also,  that  both 
Mr.  Austin  and  Miss  Darling  should  rejoice  at  the 
felon's  escape,  and  at  the  failure  of  the  sheriff's 
search  party  to  recapture  him.  "I  could  not  have 
connived  at  it,"  said  Mr.  Austin;  "but  it  is  a  great 
relief  to  my  mind-to  have  it  happen  so.  I  could  not 
bear  to  see  the  great  brute  punished  for  the  blunder- 
ing surgery  which  cured  my  lameness." 


CHAPTKII    XL. 

CONCLUSION. 

TIIK  reappearance  of  the  preacher  in  his  pulpit 
was  the  signal  for  an  ovation  rivaling  the  jubi- 
lee over  his  vindication.  He  made  no  allusion,  di- 
rectly or  indirectly,  to  preceding  events,  but  taking  up 
his  work  where  he  had  laid  it  down,  made  it,  and  not 
himself,  the  object  of  attention.  Yet  none  could  fail 
to  notice  a  new  unction  in  the  service.  Many,  too, 
as  the  opening  anthem  was  sunu;,  thought  that  they 
discovered  new  sweetness  and  power  in  the  soprano 
voice. 

Lucy  no   longer  listened   in   a   vicarious   capacity. 
Indeed,  site  did  not  set-in  to  hi-rsrlf  to  be  listeuii 
all,    but   to   have   some   subtle   consciousness  of   the 
speaker's  thought  and  feeling,  as  if  it  were  a  part  of 
her  own  soul. 

"I  suppose,"  -said    the  doctor,   :is    he    met    her  by 
chance  on  the  stairway,  with  a  look  of  ineffable  | 
on  her  face,  "  it  would  be  a  rudeness  to  remind  you  of 
that  long-airo  resolution  of  yours,  never,  never  to  be  a 
minister's  wife." 

"Let  us  rather  recall  your  own  prophetic  in.-| 
Ml 


544  THE  EOCKANOCK  STAGE. 

tion,  Tom,"  she  answered,  "  when  you  waved  some- 
body's splendid  letter  over  my  head,  and  declared  so 
fervently  that  you  had  found  a  man  after  my  ou-n 
heart ! " 

The  whole  world  seemed  to  be  a  world  after  her  own 
heart  in  the  happy  days  that  followed.  It  had  been 
her  wish  and  Mr.  Austin's  that  he  should  receive  her 
to  the  church,  and  so  it  was  decreed.  Having  been 
duly  ordained  and  inducted  into  his  pastorate,  he  was 
permitted,  as -Jus  first  official  act,  to  impose  baptism 
and  the  vows  of  Christian  faith  upon  Lucy  Darling. 

Other  similar  duties  followed  as  the  months  went 
by,  and  the  fruits  of  faithful  labor  were  gathered  in. 
Work  was  a  delight.  Love  was  an  inspiration.  Win- 
ter came  and  went ;  spring  appeared  and  passed 
away ;  summer  returned  ;  all  the  hours  were  golden. 

The  approaching  marriage  of  the  pastor  and  Miss 
Darling  was  a  matter  of  liveliest  interest  in  the  parish, 
and  of  unanimous  satisfaction.  The  proposition  to 
build  them  a  parsonage  is  said  to  have  originated  with 
Lezer  Martin  ;  but  it  was  seconded  by  everybody,  and 
carried  out  with  enthusiasm  and  unstinted  generosity. 
Opposite  Dr.  Ashley's  was  an  old,  disused  homestead, 
whose  sloping  lawns  and  great  spreading  elms,  in  full 
view  from  Lucy's  windows,  had  been  her  especial  ad- 
miration. The  site  was  now  purchased,  the  decaying 
cottage  was  removed,  and  in  its  place  a  dwelling  was 


CONCLUSION.  545 

erected  worthy  of  the  superb  location  and  of  the  pur- 
pose for  which  it  was  intended.  It  was  the  plan  of 
the  donors  to  provide  the  furnishings  also  ;  but  Major 
Gibson  claimed  that  part  of  the  work  as  his  own. 
"  That  is,"  he  explained  to  Lucy,  "  yours  and  mine. 
We  will  do  it  together,  you  know.  You  shall  furnish 
the  taste  and  make  the  selections,  and  I  will  do  all  the 
rest."  He  made  but  one  stipulation  —  that  she  should 
have  everything  exactly  as  she  wished  it ;  and  but 
one  complaint  —  that  her  wishes  were  too  moderate. 
"You  shall  have  the  best  furnished  house  in  Rockby, 
my  dear,"  he  said. 

"I  want  nothing  of  the  sort,"  she  replied.  "  I  will 
not  set  up  a  two-story  show  case,  or  bazaar,  where 
the  merchants  can  display  their  goods  at  my  expense. 
1  want  a  home  that  will  brighten  and  sweeten  our  lives 
and  bless  everybody  that  enters  it." 

"  "NVell  and  good,"  said  the  major,  "  but  that  is  not 
to  be  accomplished  by  plainness  and  economy.  Give 
your  friends  something  worth  looking  at.  That  will 
be  a  genuine  blessing,  and  a  rare  one,  in  this  town." 

"My  friends  must  not  come  to  my  home  to  look  at 
furniture  and  carpets  and  tiles  and  bric-a-brac.  If 
they  want  to  see  those  things,  let  them  go  to  the  stores, 
or  the  exposition.  I  will  not  maintain  a  show  for 
their  benefit." 

**  Yet  you  want  your  house  attractive." 


546  THE  ROCKAXOCK  STAGE. 

"Yes,  attractive  in  the  true  sense.  And  therefore 
I  don't  want  it  to  provoke  every  visitor  either  to  envy 
me,  or  to  deplore  my  extravagance.  It  must  attract 
by  its  harmony,  its  fitness,  its  unobtrusive  beauty,  its 
congenial  atmosphere ;  so  that  the  guest  shall  not  go 
away  to  describe  it  to  his  neighbor,  but  shall  feel  him- 
self sweetly  drawn  back  to  it  by  a  charm  that  is  inde- 
scribable. That  is  what  I  call  an  attractive  home." 

"Well,  well,  dear,"  said  the  major,  "it's  going  to 
be  just  as  you  like  it  best ;  and  I  guess  it  can't  help 
being  attractive,  if  you  contrive  it — and  live  in  it." 

The  argument  was  renewed  over  many  a  detail,  as 
the  work  went  on,  ending  invariably  in  the  triumph  of 
her  taste,  and  ultimately  in  its  complete  vindication. 

Yet  neither  friends  nor  parishioners  yielded  their 
right  of  contribution  to  the  beauty  and  comfort  of 
her  home,  and  when  she  entered  into  possession  of  it, 
she  met  in  every  room  and  on  every  hand  delightful 
tokens  of  their  affection.  Of  course,  being  permitted 
to  have  everything  as  she  wanted  it,  she  fitted  up  one 
suite  of  rooms  expressly  for  the  comfort  and  con- 
venience of  an  aged  single  gentleman  of  her  ac- 
quaintance. 

The  wedding  took  place  on  Lucy's  twenty-first 
birthday.  The  major  had  desired  that  it  might  be  so. 
"  We  must  not  leave  the  girl  without  a  master,"  he 
said.  "  When  one  tyrant  abdicates,  another  must  be 


CONCLUSION.  547 

crowned."  So  the  old  tyrant  kissed  his  ward  and 
invested  her  with  her  liberty  and  her  little  fortune; 
and  the  new  tyrant  kissed  bis  wife  and  endowed  her 
with  bis  poverty  of  estate  and  the  splendid  opulence 
of  bis  love. 

As  an  elaborate  account  of  the  event,  together 
with  minute  descriptions  of  the  toilets  and  the  pivs- 
ents,  the  loveliness  of  the  bride,  the  sweet  grace  of 
her  bridesmaid,  Maggie  Wauberton,  the  names  of  the 
principal  guests,  beginning  with  the  Whortles  and 
Transingtoiis,  and  ending  with  (Jrim  and  I.e/.er 
Martin  —  as  all  this,  I  say,  was  published  in  full  in 
The  Rockby  Interview,  the  curious  reader  is  referred, 
for  any  desired  details,  to  the  columns  of  that  journal.'* 

At  last  the  evening's  ft-siivities  were  over.  The 
Rockby  friends  took  their  departure,  with  a  pleasant 
monotony  of  congratulations  and  good  wishes.  ( )n 
the  veranda  the  Ashley  household,  augmented  by 
their  Chicago  gaefttB,  -.lathered  about  the  bridal  pair, 
as,  amid  a  confusion  of  guy  voices  and  u  profusion 
of  jests,  laughter,  and  good-ni-ht  ki  — . •-.  Lucy  took 
her  husband's  arm  and  set  forth  with  him  upon  their 
wedding  journey.  Out  into  the  moonlight  they  wont 
together;  down  the  half-shaded  walk;  across  the 
moonlit  Street  ;  under  the  great  elm  arches,  ami  into 
the  home  which  seemed  to  them,  in  its  brightness 
and  beauty,  its  flowers,  its  pictures,  its  manifold 


548  THE  EOCKANOCK  STAGE. 

adornments  and  treasures,  each  one  the  gift  of  some 
friend  who  loved  them,  an  enchanted  palace. 

Here  the  wedding  journey  ended ;  and  here,  with  a 
new  sense  of  mutual  possession,  they  spoke  to  each 
other,  for  the  first  time,  the  words,  "  My  wife"  — 
"  My  husband." 

"I  have  a  most  unconjugal  whim  to  confess  to 
you,"  said  Lucy. 

"And  I  pronounce  it  beforehand,  discreet  and 
wifely  and  adorable,  whatever  it  is,"  he  replied. 

"  It  is  about  my  name.  I  don't  like  giving  it  up. 
It  has  belonged  to  me  so  long,  and  seems  so  much  a 
part  of  me.  Am  I  very,  very  silly  to  feel  so?" 

"  If  you  are,  there  are  two  of  us ;  for  the  feeling 
is  quite  as  much  mine  as  yours,  dear.  I,  too,  love 
your  name.  It  has  written  itself  in  letters  of  gold 
all  over  the  world,  and  not  one  letter  of  it  shall  be 
lost.  To-night  we  have  written  my  name  after  it ; 
that  is  all.  And  between  us  two,  even  that  is  need- 
less ;  for  you  see,  I  only  insert  a  comma,  for  expres- 
sion's sake,  and  call  you  Lucy,  darling." 

What  response  she  made  to  this  speech  I  am,  as 
Lezer  would  say,  not  at  liberty  to  tell. 

The  wedding  gifts  had  been  brought  over  and 
appropriately  placed  in  the  various  rooms.  Among 
them  were  a  couple  of  unopened  packages. 

"  Oh !  here  are  the  two  presents  that  Helen  spoke 


CONCLUSION.  .Ml) 

of,"  said  Lucy.  "  I  wonder  what  they  can  be,  that 
she  was  unwilling  to  display  them  over  there.  That 
one,  from  its  shape,  must  be  a  book  ;  but  the  other  — 
I  can't  imagine  what  it  is.  Can  you?" 

"  No,  but  you  shall  soon  know." 

They  sat  down  together  and  proceeded  to  unwrap 
the  packages.  The  first  was  a  book,  as  they  had 
guessed  —  a  plain,  cloth-bound  copy  of  The  Merchant 
of  Venice.  At  the  casket  scene,  in  the  second  act, 
a  card  was  inserted  between  the  leaves.  Mr.  Austin 
placed  it  in  Lucy's  hand  and  they  read  together  the 
following  inscription  :  — 

Dazzled  by  the  gilded  casket,  I  forfeited  the  richer 
treasure,  which  now  a  worthier  man  has  won.  God 
bless  him  and  you  !  I  trust  no  shadow  will  be  cast 
upon  your  great  joy  by  this  homely  gift,  purchased 
ivith  my  first  honest  dollar.  A.  MxcA. 

For  some  momenta  they  sat  silent,  and  Lucy's  face 
grew  pensive.  "  It  ought  to  make  you  very  happy, 
dear,"  he  said,  putting  the  book  away,  "to  know 
that  you  have  taught  such  a  man  his  first  lesson  in 
virtue." 

He  took  the   other   package    upon    his   knees,  and 
removed    its    wrapper.     An    elegant    rosewood 
came  to  view,  within  which  was  a  silver  coach. 

"  The  Rockanock  stnge  !  "  they  both  exclaimed. 


550  THE  EOCKANOCK  STAGE. 

Mr.  Austin  lifted  it  from  the  case  arid  held  it  up 
for  Lucy's  admiration.  See !  it  is  the  old  stage 
idealized.  Tongue,  whiffletrees,  boot,  whip,  reaches, 
baggage-rack,  curtains,  ill-matched  wheels,  and  the 
very  name  on  the  side  —  everything  is  here,  except 
Lezer  and  the  horses  ! " 

"It  is  another  of  the  major's  surprises,"  said  Lucy, 
"  and  the  very  brightest  and  most  wonderful  of  them 
all.  But  why  did  not  Helen  put'  it  where  our  guests 
could  enjoy  it?  How  it  would  have  delighted  Lezer  !  " 

Turning  it  over  in  his  hand,  Mr.  Austin  made  a 
discovery.  "  Why,  it's  a  box,  Lucy  !  "  he  exclaimed, 
"  a  jewelry  case,  or  something  of  the  sort.  Here 
are  hinges  ;  and  —  yes,  a  spring.  There  !  " 

The  top  of  the  coach  flew  up.  Within  it,  and 
exactly  fitting  its  shape,  was  a  package,  carefully 
wrapped  and  sealed,  and  the  following  note  :  — 

Dear  Lucy,  —  I  once  devised  this  trifle  to  you  in 
my  will.  But,  as  Grim  would  say,  "  Second  thoughts 
are  best,"  and  I  want  you  to  have  the  benefit  of  it 
while  I  can  see  you  enjoy  it.  Use  it  just  as  will  pro- 
mote your  happiness,  and  you  will  most  oblige  the 
giver.  If  3'ou  think  it  an  unsuitable  load  for  the 
stage  to  carry  all  the  year  round,  call  at  the  Fidelity 
Safe  Vaults,  whenever  you  are  in  Chicago,  taking  the 
enclosed  certificate  and  key  with  you ;  give  your  name 


CONCLUSION.  551 

and  the  password  "  Rockanock,"  and  you  will  be 
shown  the  drawer,  now  reserved  for  your  exclusive 
use,  where  these  and  some  other  papers  of  mine 
reposed  during  the  great  fire.  If  you  feel  the  least 
hesitation  about  accepting  them,  you  will  break  the 
heart  of 

Your  affectionate  guardian, 

O.  T.  GIBSON. 

"Oh,  I  hope  he  has  not  given  me  money,"  said 
Lucy.  "  I  don't  need  it,  and  I  don't  want  it."  She 
hamled  the  package  to  her  husband,  and  watched  the 
opening  of  it  with  less  interest  than  she  had  felt  in 
many  a  smiill  trinket  that  d:iy. 

Breaking  the  seals,  he  took  out  an  engraved  paper 
and  laid  it  upon  her  lap.  It  was  a  one-thousuiul- 
dollar  United  States  bond.  He  laid  another  upon  it ; 
ami  another  upon  that;  and  others,  and  others  still, 
till  the  package  was  exhausted.  "  Poor  little  wife !  " 
said  he,  patting  her  cheek,  "  don't  look  so  frightened. 
There  are  only  two  hundred  and  fifty  of  them." 


THE    END. 


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